Lucy's Engagement
by jomo2014
Summary: Sequel to Ben and The Frog Princess. Lucy and Mike have been dating for one year. With Mike's sister approaching graduation, the pair decide to fly off to the Big Apple for a well-deserved vacation. Unfortunately, trouble seems to follow them to New York, and they soon become embroiled in more Incursean Entanglements. Rated M for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Lucy stared around her in fascination at the great metropolis of New York city. Having lived much of her life in a rural community where nearly everybody was Lenopan, the Big Apple was an eye-opener for her. Bellwood had been kind of a shock for the beautiful young woman, but this... It was so _big_. There were people as far as the eye could see.

As they drove, Mike pointed out bits and pieces of his old life to her. They passed the store where he'd worked as a young man. They passed the house where his mother grew up. He showed her the high-school he graduated from. She even got to see the spot where he'd had his first kiss. Experiencing all of that, the young alien-girl found herself growing closer to her boyfriend than ever.

Turning down a nondescript side-street, Mike found himself reminiscing as he reflected on all the miles he'd seen. Moving to California after just one year in the NYPD had been a lark. He'd been restless and a little self-absorbed–too hot-blooded for the day-to-day job of a beat-cop in NYC. It was now, quite frankly, the best choice he could have made. He'd experienced so much just in the last year.

He'd helped take down a gun and people smuggling ring run by extra-terrestrials. He'd met aliens–real, live ETs! He'd been in outer space! He'd been working a case that happened to involve Bellwood's alien community, and that had led him on a trip to the lonely, frozen prison the Plumbers kept on Mars.

And he'd met Lucy.

Taking her hand as they rolled up on his mother's house, Mike reflected on that. He'd been a little ambivalent about starting a relationship with her, and not just because she was an alien too. As a fellow cop, she saw more than her share of ugliness the same as he did, and it colored her relationships. Over time, he had come to realize that it actually _strengthened_ their bond. Who understood his problems better than another cop? She had become the great love of his life.

Blushing, Lucy shared a grin with him. She was excited to be here and looked forward to meeting his folks. She was planning to take him to Wyoming to meet her folks. It was one more step along the road. Her friends, Molly and Helen, thought he was edging up on proposing. Lucy was delighted.

Pulling up to a nondescript bungalow, Mike parked the car and turned off the ignition. "Ready," he asked? Lucy was all smiles. She was more than ready. Mike slipped out of the driver's seat and joined her on the sidewalk. Lucy had seen the subtle movement of a curtain that said somebody was watching. Taking her boyfriend's hand, the young woman glided up the walk with a smile on her face.

Silvia List found her heart beating a mile a minute as her son came to the door with his beautiful girlfriend. After his fiance dumped him, she'd been a little afraid he wouldn't get back on the horse. Now, as he rang the doorbell, she checked herself over again. While she was doing that, her two sisters rolled their eyes. Edith, oldest of the three, simply got tired of listening to the doorbell and jerked the door open herself.

A surprised Mike Stack greeted his aunt with, "hi, aunt Edith. Wasn't expecting you..." Edith grabbed her silly younger sister by the arm and pulled her into view. "Hi, sweetie," said Silvia as she hugged her son. Offering her would-be daughter-in-law a smile, Silvia said, "and you would be Lucy..." Lucy smiled back, offering, "pleased to meet you." As Mike hugged his aunt, Lucy hugged his mom. As Edith shut the door, Silvia led the way into her home.

Inside, they found Mike's youngest aunt, Fran, looking just like Mike remembered her–an older woman who was completely incapable of dressing to her age. The forty-something older woman was dressed in a mini-skirt in red leather that _Lucy_ would have been embarrassed to wear. Over that, she wore a skin tight Leopard-print top, and her stiletto heels had her standing as tall as Mike. "C'mere, sweetie," said Fran, as she shimmied over to meet the newcomers. Mike gave her a hug, even as she eyed Lucy with jealousy.

The young couple found seats on the smaller of the two couches, while Edith occupied the recliner, leaving Sylvia and Fran on the larger couch. "Good flight," asked Fran? Mike nodded, "food was decent, though we had to pack a salad for Lucy." The three older women frowned at his companion as if she were an imposition already. Blushing, Lucy smiled back.

Silvia asked the pretty blonde, "are you from Bellwood?" "I'm from Copper Springs, Wyoming," replied Lucy. "It's a little town about a hundred miles southeast of Jackson Hole..." "Small-town girl," announced Edith approvingly. "She's so pretty," opined Fran! Mike grinned. Yes she was. The three older women quizzed Lucy on everything from religion–agnostic–to what her home town was like. Patiently Lucy answered even the most irritating question–how many babies was she going to have and when.

At the height of the grilling, Mike asked when his brother and sister were due. "Oh, Valerie's due back in an hour," said Silvia. "She's at school picking up her cap and gown." "Ah," grunted Mike. "Is dad coming?" "If he can get the time," muttered Silvia. Which was a complaint as old as Silvia's relationship with Mike's dad. In her eyes, Bill Stack spent more time on his precinct and his officers than he spent on his sons and daughter. Mike paid her complaints no heed.

As they sat there chatting, the sound of keys in the door announced that one of Mike's siblings had returned. His brother, Bill Jr., was back in the house while the courts settled his messy divorce from Karen, his wife of just eight years. Sure enough, as Mike turned towards the sound of the door opening, his older brother came in. Rising, Mike went to greet Jr., throwing his arms around the older man and hugging him tight. "Mike," shouted the older man! "Just get here?" "Yeah," replied Mike.

The two men came back to the living room to find their mother bringing in a chair from the dining room. Bill Jr. immediately occupied the chair, front and center where he could join the conversation. Catching sight of Mike's girlfriend, Bill greeted her with, "_hello_, beautiful. You must be Lucy." Blushing, Lucy nodded. Reaching out, she shook his hand. "What're you doing with this loser," asked Bill? Lucy laughed her awful laugh, which sort of gave Bill the idea that Mike's new girl wasn't exactly _perfect_. Sitting down beside Lucy, Mike took her hand, showing that, laugh or no laugh, he was truly pussy-whipped.

"So, what do you do for a living," asked Bill? "Not investment banking I hope?" Mike blushed to the roots of his hair, and Silvia smacked her eldest child on the head. "That's not nice, Billy," growled the older woman. She knew exactly what he was implying. So did Lucy for that matter. Proudly, she admitted, "I'm a Plumber." "Oh," cried Aunt Fran. "You've got such soft hands for working on pipes. What's your secret?" Blushing, Lucy said, "not that kind of plumber." Bill Jr. stared at her. "You're one o'_them_," he howled?!

Before Mike could get control of the conversation, his family erupted, with Silvia asking what her son meant by 'one of them', Edith yelling at Bill for being a jerk, and Fran asking what kind of plumbing Lucy worked on. At the height of the confusion, the door opened to admit Valerie Stack, who was carrying a bundle of purple cloth. The sight of her there brought the contentious conversation to a screeching halt, finally allowing Mike to get control. "Hi, Val," said Mike, as he rose to meet his younger sister.

The pretty brunette was across the room in three strides. Tossing the graduation gown on the couch he'd just vacated, she threw herself on her brother and hugged him tight. Of all his family, she'd been most affected by his decision to head west. When she finally let go of him, she was sniffing back tears. Silvia came over and grabbed the robe from the couch–so it didn't get wrinkled–taking it over to the closet to hang. When she returned, she insisted on hearing just what it was that Lucy actually did.

"Lucy's a cop, ma," replied Mike. "She's... She looks after the freaks under Bellwood," growled Bill Jr. "Am I right?" "You mean the aliens," retorted Mike. "_Mike_," howled Silvia! "You're dating a cop?!" As he sat down, Mike shrugged, "Lucy's dating a cop too." That made Val laugh. It was just like her brother to say that. Shutting her mouth with a click, Silvia blushed to the roots of her hair. Lucy said, "yeah. I'm a Plumber. I work for Magister Tennyson..." Glancing at Mike's brother, she said, "I prefer to think of myself as protecting the weak and needy, Sgt. Stack." "I'm confused," interjected Fran. "Do you work on commodes?" That made Mike and Lucy both laugh.

"Mike told us he had actually been to Mars," announced Edith. "Have you been there?" Smiling, Lucy replied, "I've been to a couple of worlds. I got offered a spot on Revonnah, but I really wanted to be here. Enough about me, though. I'd like to hear more about you all..." Valerie announced, "ma's Jewish. Dad's Irish, so you're dating two downtrodden races in one bundle..." The way she said that made Lucy howl laughter. "I get t'be a Yenta or a Shiksa depending on which side of the bed I wake up on," chuckled Val. Silvia waggled a finger at her youngest, and Val subsided.

Edith said, "Michael's been raised by one mother and two aunts, so he's well housebroken!" As Mike blushed, Lucy replied, "yeah, I noticed..." Grinning, she said, "he's the perfect gentleman..." Silvia suddenly jumped up and rushed into her bedroom. When she returned, she had a pair of large picture albums. "_Ma_," growled Jr! His mother ignored him. "Val's been putting these on some computer somewhere," said Silvia, "but I prefer the real thing..." Val said not a word. She only smiled. The pictures were safe up on the cloud, just in case the house ever burned.

Silvia and her sisters converged on Lucy, bumping Mike off the couch. As the three women started off with baby pictures, Bill Jr. motioned for his brother to come out back with him. Chuckling at his family's antics, Mike followed the older man out to the back porch. "So," asked Bill, "you ready to move back from the land of fruits and nuts?" Mike chuckled. It hadn't been an easy adjustment moving to California. Even northern Cali was a lot different than the Big Apple. "I'm happy there, Billy," said Mike. He had a nice life.

Billy told him, "you could probably get bridged if you came back, Mikey. We could sure use you." Mike laughed. The NYPD had used him so well, he'd gone to sleep at his desk once. "World's changin', Mikey," rumbled Billy. "We need young guys." Those words, coming from a cop, were ominous, suggesting trouble the force was having difficulty managing. Mike wasn't here for that, though. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small box and said, "tell me what you think."

Billy knew immediately what was in that box. Pushing it away, he said, "didn't you learn anything?" Mike frowned at him. Shaking his head, Jr. said, "guys like us don't get married, Mikey. We're not made for it. Women... they just want to get the money out of your pocket." It was the divorce talking, and Mike decided to step back. "Sorry you're feeling down, Bill," replied Mike. "You're gonna' do this anyway, aren't you," asked Bill Jr? Mike nodded. "Weeellll, at least she's pretty," offered Billy.

Mike changed the subject to something less likely to cause friction–football. He and his brother spent a while reminiscing about playing highschool football and chasing hot cheerleaders when they were boys. That topic slowly turned to the subject of college sports, and that quickly brought them around to the Giants and Jets. Mike, who'd been a Jets fan more because his brother liked the Giants than because they were any damned good, had been at perpetual loggerheads with his brother over football, even to the point where they'd had a couple of pretty good wrestling matches over the remote.

The younger man now looked back on those days with fondness, and he was excited to have kids of his own to sit down and watch the games with. It helped a lot that Lucy was also a sports fan. He wasn't going to have to spend time arguing over sitting in front of the tube on a Sunday. As they were debating the finer points of this year's stars, Val came out and announced, "we're done with the pictures. You guys can come back in." Mike and Jr both laughed. Throwing his arms around his sister, the Bellwood cop hugged her tight, and his brother hugged the both of them.

The little family stayed up fairly late, talking about the graduation and future plans, aided and abetted by Lucy's jet-lag induced insomnia. It was midnight before they all finally went to bed. Unfortunately the sounds of the neighbors starting their day and brilliant sunlight streaming in through the windows put paid to any ambition of sleeping in. Lucy was wide awake at eight and sitting bleary-eyed in the kitchen swilling coffee. Silvia, who'd already taken the day off to prepare for the graduation party, had stern advice for their guest, admonishing her, "if you're havin' trouble sleeping, dear, don't lay there in bed. I read that your mind start's to associate bed with being awake, and you'll never sleep again!"

All three Stack siblings rolled their eyes. Their mother was always making such pronouncements. Lucy took the ribbing and the advice with good grace, swearing that she would be alright. Done with breakfast, Bill Jr. and Val headed off to their respective jobs. Mike and Lucy spent much of the day helping his mother decorate the house for the party and just generally enjoying their visit. Late afternoon found the three of them in the kitchen with Silvia and Lucy working up some of the food for the graduation party, while Mike watched and listened to them talk. He'd been afraid of how things were going to go, but now he felt a lot better.

As Mike was pondering getting his mother alone to try and reveal Lucy's secret, the doorbell rang. Immediately Silvia headed for the living room, announcing, "keep stirring the soup, Lucy. I'll be right back." The older woman scooted to the front door and opened it to find a trio of cops waiting there.

The sight of the three officers standing on her porch startled Silvia List. "Afternoon, ma'am," announced the tall black man. "We're looking for a Mr. Michael Stack. Is he inside by chance?" Silvia felt a tingle of fear. What did these men want with her son? "Uh... What's this about," asked the older woman? "We need to speak to him about an important matter, ma'am," said the officer in his best 'official' voice.

Uncertainly, Silvia stepped back and called out to her son. "Mike," shouted Silvia. "There's a couple of cops here. Say they need to talk to you..." Mike came to the door wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, looking a little puzzled and feeling a little uneasy. He didn't think there was anything that he'd done that would warrant three cops at his mother's house. He was a cop himself after all. Stepping into the doorway, he eyed the three somber-looking men there uncertainly. "Evenin', fellas," said the detective. "What can I do for you?"

The black cop's face split into a grin. "You don't even remember us, do ya," he asked? That voice and the friendly tone of that delivery jogged Mike's memory. "Tim," he babbled? "Yeah, man," said the black man as he grabbed Mike in a bear hug. Stunned by the sight of the three men he'd gone to the academy with, Mike hugged the big man gingerly, unsure just what to say.

"What are you guys doing here," he asked? "Heard the big man was in town," announced Joe Savage. "Thought we'd come by and see if you'd go slumming with us and do dinner." Mike turned around to find Lucy standing near. His girl, who was willing to go through hell for him, had come to the door to see just what was going on. She gave him that beautiful smile of hers and nodded, motioning for him to go. "Sh-sure," agreed Mike. "Lemme' get my coat."

Minutes later, he was riding down the street with Tim and Joe in their squad car, headed for the neighborhood bar where he'd spent so much of his time as a young man in New York. As they rode, they chatted about old times, and Mike got caught up on what was going on in his old precinct. It was the same grind that he'd run away from. Tim and Joe still had the same beat. Nick Luchini had tested for and been turned down for sargent twice now–he just didn't have the years. Reese Goodwin was the only one of them to have any kind of change in her life. She'd gotten married and had a kid.

Arriving at Sally's Pub, the five cops headed inside to find the place half empty. Grabbing a table in a back corner out of sight of the door, the five of them settled in to talk and have dinner. "Heard from your brother that you were back," explained Tim. "Figured we'd grab you and have dinner." "You guys scared the shit out of my mom," laughed Mike. "She thought you were gonna' bust me on something."

Nick asked the burning question on everybody's minds, "so what're they like?" At Mike's frown, Nick said, "well you're the big man who runs around fighting aliens. What're they like?" Mike laughed. Shaking his head, he said, "a lot like you and me, Nick." Warming to the topic, he explained, "they got organized crime too. They got gangsters. They got a lot of people just tryin' t'make a life f'er themselves and their families."

Tim laughed at Mike. Shaking his head, he chuckled, "that's not what he means... He wants to know if they have green blood or something." "Oh," rumbled Mike. Honestly, he didn't know. "There's a lot of different races," admitted Mike. He'd met members of three of them. "Friend of mine's married to one," said he. That floored the other four cops. "Are you fucking kidding," asked Joe?! "Male or female," asked Reese? "Girl," replied Mike. "You talking about that Ben Ten character," asked Tim? Mike nodded. "So you're friends with that guy," asked Nick? Mike laughed, "he saved my ass, Nick. My partner and I had rolled up on a stolen truck, lookin' to arrest the three jokers who'd been driving it. Turned out they were all aliens, and the truck was full of alien firepower. Ben and his partner stepped in and stopped them from blasting the both of us."

Reese, crass and crude as ever, asked, "so he's really fuckin' that girl? Pumped up her belly with three half-alien brats?" Mike shrugged. Attea was a nice girl. When you looked past the odd stuff, she was really pretty. "Wow," muttered Reese. "Talk about getting too close to your work." "He messed up," said Mike. "He was supposed to be protecting her from her crazy uncle. Ended up getting in her pants." That made Nick, the would-be sargent, shout, "oy! Surprised he didn't get his balls cut off by IA!" "He lucked out," agreed Mike.

Joe announced, "I hear the Commissioner's been approached by these Plumber guys, Mike. What do you think of 'em?" With a shrug, Mike replied, "cops, just like us. Good people. They been doin' this a long time." "How long is long," asked Nick? "1800s," replied Mike. "Holy-shit," howled Joe! "There's been aliens here that long?" "According to Ben," replied Mike. "His family's one of the first to be approached. They been runnin' down aliens since then."

It was a lot to think about. His four friends were in a state of shock. Mike took a sip from his Coke. He and Lucy had agreed that, with a history of alcoholism in his family, he probably should stay away from even social drinking. He was jonesing for a beer right now, but a promise was a promise. He didn't want to lose the love of his life to booze the way his father had.

"Our department didn't want to cooperate either," admitted Mike. All four cops looked up at him. "Chief wanted to take over patrolling the alien slums," said the BPD cop. "Figured we'd been policing Bellwood since it was founded... Why change that?" They'd had to learn the hard way. "Why's all this happening now," asked Reese? Waving her hands, she said, "if they've been here this long, why all this shit now?" Mike replied, "according to Ben, we've only seen the first couple waves... Fringers who wanted to get away from wherever they were... People who wanted to move as far as they could to get away from their society. They found this place inhabited, but they didn't want to go back, so they just hid out. They just wanted to be left alone..." "Like those crazies up in Alaska," agreed Nick. Mike nodded.

"Now," said he. "We're getting people following the trailblazers. They're looking to start over where the taxes ain't so high and the laws aren't so tough. It's like having a bunch of people get off the boat from El Salvador. They don't know the laws. They don't fit in, and they're isolated from the society..." "So they get into crime," muttered Joe. That was bad news. "Are they dangerous," asked Reese? Mike nodded. "Attea's pop tried to invade the Earth a couple years ago," he admitted. "The Plumbers put a stop to it, but it was close." "You mean the hoax...," stammered Nick? "...wasn't a hoax," agreed Mike. "Attea's dad got put in the pokey. The Plumbers have him down in their jail under Bellwood."

There was a lot more than that. Most of the world-shaking stuff had died down. The planet was under the protection of the Plumbers and the worst of the aliens didn't come to Earth anymore. That left the small-scale stuff–the gangs and the smugglers–but that was growing. It had already outgrown Bellwood proper. There were already scattered towns that aliens had taken over on the sly.

"Shit," growled Tim. "You could write a book!" "Maybe later," laughed Mike. He had too much work to do now. "So what _do_ you do," asked Reese? Grinning ear-to-ear, Mike admitted, "I am the official Bellwood PD liaison to the Plumbers. Got my own office and a staff of two, consisting of me and my partner, Phil." He'd been personally requested by Magister Tennyson himself. "They like young guys," admitted Mike. "Old farts tend to be too closed-minded." "Sooo," asked Tim, as he leaned forward. "Get to touch any alien tech?" "A little," admitted Mike. "Worked with one of their undercovers on that gun-running case. She loaned me a piece. We were up against these nasty shape-changers. Bullets just passed right through them." Mike shivered involuntarily in memory. He'd have to talk with Lucy about where they were going to keep her service weapon if they were going to have kids.

Mike kept his friends entertained for more than an hour before they settled up the tab. As the evening crowd was coming in, the five cops headed out–Mike to go home, his friends to drop off their cars at the station before doing the same. The five of them promised to meet up before Mike headed home. All his old friends wanted to meet Lucy.

Lucy was immersed in helping the in-laws get ready for the big celebration of Valerie's upcoming graduation when Mike got back to his mom's house. He came right in, walked up to his future wife, and hugged her tight. Lucy gave him a searing hot kiss and asked him how his visit with his former comrades had gone. "It was good," said Mike. "Really good. How were things here?" "Things went just fine, big brother," laughed Val. "Lucy's been really good about putting up with all of us." Blushing, Lucy laughed that awful laugh of hers. Happy as can be, Mike headed into the dining room to pitch in.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Valerie Stack would remember that bright Saturday morning for the rest of her life. She was one day out from graduation, and the little family was gathered around the table for breakfast. Mike and Lucy were occupying the window-seat together, looking like they were madly in love. Valerie was sitting across from them, with her mother and brother occupying the two end seats. They had spent most of the morning talking about the graduation and the party after, with Bill Jr. teasing his sister about ending her life as a delinquent and getting a real job finally. Val accepted his ribbing in good grace, teasing him back by suggesting that he had stopped doing a real job when he became a sargent.

Silvia shushed the both of them finally, reminding them, "we've got a guest in the house. You two could be nice to each other for a change." Grinning, Val said, "well, the delinquent has to go into town to the lab, so I'll leave my hard-working brothers at the TV." Turning to her would-be sister-in-law, Val asked, "hey, Lucy? Want to ride into town with me?" Never having been in New York City, Lucy was quick to agree. With a kiss goodbye for her boyfriend, Lucy followed Val out to her little Honda.

Val put the car in gear and headed for the nearest park-and-ride lot so they could catch a ride on the subway. It was the first time she'd really been alone with Lucy without her mother around, and now, with curiosity burning her up, she couldn't help asking the question on her mind. "So," said Val. "You're an alien..." Lucy glanced up into her would-be sister-in-law's eyes.

Val was smiling. She was almost giddy as if this was a delicious secret. "My brother already told me," she admitted. "Which planet are you from?" "Actually," said Lucy, "I'm a citizen of the US, just like you. I was born in a little town in Wyoming." As were her parents and grandparents. "You mean there's sludge-people who've been living here that long," whispered Val? She was in awe. Giving Valerie a sweet smile, Lucy explained, "'sludge-person' is actually kinda like using the N-word with us. The correct term is Lenopan." "S-sorry," replied Val. Lucy shrugged, "no problem."

"Sooo," said Val. "When are you going to break the news to mom?" "Left it to Mike," replied Lucy. "I guess he's waiting on a good time." Valerie snorted. They might be waiting a while for that to come out. "Hard to believe you're not really human," opined Val. She looked so _normal_. She looked like a walking fucking heart-attack. Her oldest brother had been practically drooling. Lucy blushed and grinned.

"Mom's going to be a little disappointed," said Val. "She was hoping for grandkids..." Ones she actually got to see. With Bill getting divorced, she'd lost contact with her current crop. Blushing, Lucy said, "Mike and I have been talking about kids..." The biochemist glanced over at Lucy in puzzlement. She didn't think that was possible. "My cousin Camille's married to a human," said Lucy. "They have two." That floored Val. Teasing, Lucy said, "don't get any ideas about experimenting on our kids..." Val laughed, but she had a million questions.

Lucy's head was spinning when they got out of the car at the subway station. Her sister-in-law had asked questions even she couldn't answer about the Lenopan race, and Lucy knew most anything that someone would want to know. Walking towards the stairs to the subway station, Val changed the subject, knowing that it wasn't good to discuss private business out in the open. As the two rode into town, Val told her about restaurants they could hit while they were in town and places to go and see. While she did have to go into the lab for fifteen minutes or so, she didn't plan to stay there all day.

The famous NYC subway was a sight–and _smell_–to behold. Lucy was certain Attea would have been completed revolted by the scent. She was. Fortunately, it was a Saturday morning, the train was mostly empty, and there was no ongoing maintenance. They were at Val's job in just thirty minutes.

Lucy hung around outside for a while, letting her sister-in-law go up to her office. Valerie had to check up on a test she'd left running in the background. It was important to her boss, and she was anxious to make sure it made it through to conclusion. This was their third attempt, and apparently the customer was getting _very_ anxious. Fortunately, things were going well today. In a scant twenty minutes, Val was back downstairs with Lucy. "Let's go," said the pretty brunette.

The two women strolled the streets of the Big Apple, getting their shop on, checking out shoes and dresses, window-shopping in jewelry stores, and having a grand old time. Strolling across a picturesque old park, carrying bags of loot, the two women laughed like family, enjoying the day. Val could hardly get over how _normal_ Lucy was. She was like any of Val's friends–heavily invested in bling and pretty shoes. Honestly Val had fallen in love with her, and she was looking forward to having Lucy in the family.

Lucy, on the other hand, had one eye on their surroundings. This _was_ the big city. There were a number of unsavory types lurking in the park. There were a couple of vagrants begging for money. She saw a couple of men who might have been dealing drugs. There was even a man who's roving eye said 'sex-predator' without his lips once moving.

There was also a fairly odd trio standing beneath a tree dressed in all-enveloping parkas with the hoods drawn up, well overhead. They set off alarm-bells in Lucy's head. It wasn't _that_ cold, and she was from California. Seeing where Lucy's eyes went, Val opined, "bet it's Haitians or Jamaicans. They think below seventy is freezing!" Lucy nodded uncertainly. As Lucy stared, a young Hispanic male strode up to the three.

"Hey, Chico," announced a voice.

Every face there–the three parka wearing men, the young Hispanic, and Lucy–turned to face the voice. An older cop was coming up the steet. He was a handsome latin man–like Lucy's previous boyfriend with sexy dark skin and pretty brown eyes and the sort of rugged looks that made Lucy weak in the knees. Beside him came a much younger cop. This one was pale and pretty to the Hispanic's dark and handsome. The older cop lectured the young thug, "you know better, Chico. Not in the park in broad daylight!"

Apparently he had a history with the young hood because 'Chico' approached him with his hands outstretched, announcing, "naw, Ray, man... I ain't got nothin' on me, man..." He even started turning out his pockets. Ray told his young partner, "watch him..." Furtive movements by the three 'Haitians' had him nervous. Hands on his service weapon, the patrolman approached the three, announcing, "let me see your hands..."

That was when the world exploded.

Lucy had seen the same furtive move, and instinctively she shoved Val to the icy ground behind a stone bench as the fïrst Incursean drew his pistol and fired point-blank into the cop's chest. Kevlar, flesh, and bone vaporized instantly. The cop was dead before he hit the ground. Chico tore out of there, as the second cop opened fire. His Hornady Critical Duties slammed into the frog's arm and ribs and some flew past to churn up the dirt.

Terrified by the sight of the ugly alien soaking up bullets, the young patrolman was target-fixated on the frog as he hammered away at center-of-mass ineffectually. The Incursean took his time, taking careful aim, and Lucy knew she had to act. Darting out from cover, she knocked the patrolman to the ground, just as his assailant opened up. Bolts of plasma slammed into the parked cars behind the cop, setting several alight and blowing one sky-high in one shot.

Deftly, Lucy disarmed the young cop, coming up with his weapon and taking careful aim at the frog's face. Squeezing off the last two shots in the magazine, she drilled the frog through his tiny brain, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. Before the cop could even begin to register what had just happened, Lucy was in motion again, dropping his pistol and rushing towards the Incursean's steaming corpse. Diving at the last second, doing a neat tuck-and-roll, she came up with the frog's blaster as his buddies turned to face her. Two shots, center of mass, did in the first of them. She shot the second as he was turning to flee, catching him in his hip and knocking him down.

And that was when the NYPD swarmed the area with over a dozen shouting cops, screaming, "get on the ground! Get on the ground!" Lucy dropped the Incursean pistol and raised her hands. "On the ground, bitch," snarled the biggest of the cops as he grabbed her hair. "Move, and I swear I'll fucking blow your brains out!" Lucy went limp as the men shoved her hard into the pavement. Val screamed at them to stop, and the surviving patrolman tried to make himself heard over the shouting, but none of those men were listening. Somebody planted a boot on Lucy's back, while another cop kicked her in the ribs in his rush to get the pistol away from her.

They cuffed her–painfully tight–and then hauled her to her feet for a rather crude and _thorough_ search. One of them came up with her ID and Plumber badge. "What the fuck is this," growled the lead cop as he waved her badge in front of her eyes? "Who the fuck are you?" "Lucy Mann," replied Lucy. "I'm a Plumber." He behaved as if he hadn't heard her, demanding, "who the fuck are you? What the fuck is this thing?" Knowing that talking could just make things worse, Lucy shut up. Seeing that she had clammed up, the cops began hauling her towards one of the cars. Val begged them to stop, trying to explain that Lucy had been _helping_ them, but one of them actually shoved her to the ground and threatened to shoot her. As Val stared in horror, Lucy got shoved face-first into one of the squad-cars, which promptly roared out of there at high speed.

Across town, Lucy's lover was just slipping into a table at the seedy bar around the corner from his mother's house. Mike and his older brother had spent most of the morning just sitting around talking about old times. As noon approached, Bill Sr. had shown up and asked them to lunch. Having not seen much of his dad since before he left, Mike immediately agreed. Telling his mother where they were going, the three set out for the seedy tavern at the corner.

Settling in at a table, the three men caught up on each other's lives. Bill Sr. did a lot of the talking, telling his sons about all the political shenanigans going on in the department. It often seemed like he spent more time fighting red-tape than crime. Mike's brother echoed a lot of that sentiment. He had his own political crosses to bear. As the two older men sipped their way through their beer, Mike got to hear all about the life he'd left behind. Honestly, he felt sorry for the both of them. They sounded like they were both in hell!

"Says the guy who runs down frogs from space," laughed Billy. He liked the life he had, and he wouldn't have traded it for Mike's crazy world if they paid him a million a year. "Bad enough when the Feds are running their ops in our backyard without notice," opined the elder brother. He didn't like these 'Plumbers'. He didn't like the way they'd hidden things from people. "I get that they couldn't tell joe six-pack," growled Jr., "but they could have told _us_."

Mike acknowledged that. "I been workin' on that," said he. "You know these guys," asked Bill Sr.? Mike said, "know Magister Tennyson personally. Spent a lot of time working with his grandson." The senior man whistled in amazement. Mike said, "we got them to participate in 911 dispatch. We got them to trade information. We have standing agreements on trading over custody of guys we can't hold in our lockups. They're decent guys..." "They give you guys guns to stop these psycho aliens," asked Bill Jr.? "No?" "Air-Force give you Apache gunships," retorted Mike? His brother clammed up.

With a sigh, Mike explained, "they'd run afoul of their own Internal Affairs, Billy. Just like you can't hand out Glocks to every battered housewife, they got regs that limit what they can do..." He was working on convincing the old man to open more facilities, and he'd sat in on technical discussions that BPD's body-armor supplier had had with the Plumbers. As his son spoke, it became clear to Bill Sr. that his son wasn't running around playing a bit part in a movie. What he was involved with was serious work–work that might someday affect every department and beat-cop in America–if not the world. In that moment, William Anthony Stack Sr. was immensely proud of his son. Telling his oldest kid to stick a sock in the griping, Bill clapped his boy on the shoulder and said, "you keep at it, son."

Disgusted, Jr. got up and went for more beer. While he was gone, his father moved on to the question that had been burning in his mind. Bill Stack leaned in and asked, "so what's the story wit dis goil, Mikey?" "Love of my life, pop," replied Mike. "Y'er brother says she's a _cop_," announced the elder Stack. "You really want to tie yourself up with a cop?" Mike laughed, "same thing I said to her, pop." Leaning forward, he admitted, "funnily enough, dad... she _gets_ me. Maybe... Maybe that's the way it _should_ be. She understands the shit I put up with every day, and she doesn't get mad when I come home feeling pissed off. I don't get mad at her f'er being moody after a day of working undercover either." They leaned on each other.

"How'd you meet this girl," asked Jr. as he sat down with a couple more beers? "None for me," said Mike. The older man frowned at him, and howled, "since when do you turn down a beer?" Mike shrugged, "since I saw that kid with his brains blown out on Tenth Street two years back. I wanted to drink so badly, I could taste it. I made myself walk out o'that bar, and I ain't been back since." Moving on, Mike told his dad, "met her on that alien gun-smuggling case last year. Fell for her the first I saw her." "With knobs like that girl has, I believe it," laughed Billy! Blushing to his hair, Mike laughed too.

"I don't see how you get past that laugh," chuckled Billy Stack. "Bad," asked Sr.? Shaking his head, Mike admitted, "the worst!" Laughing, he said, "I love her the most when she's laughing, dad." He loved Lucy's laugh. There were lots of pretty girls in the world, but only one Lucy. "Man, you _are_ house-broke," laughed Billy! Mike nodded, but he wouldn't have changed that for the world.

The three men chatted for over an hour and may well have continued into the afternoon if the bartender hadn't turned on the TV. Billy was the only person at the table facing the TV, and, initially he was tuned out, not really even paying attention. At least until the coroners carried the two dead aliens past the camera. "Holy shit," howled Bill Stack Jr.! Those words had both his father and younger brother staring first at him, then at the tube. And that's when Mike saw Lucy's picture flash on the screen as the shooter. "That's your girl," shouted Jr.! Mike immediately dove for his coat. Jerking the cellphone from his pocket, he found a half-dozen missed calls! "Shit," he shouted! "I gotta' get back to ma's house!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

After being hauled into the precinct house, Lucy found herself in a rather nasty interview room, shackled to a heavy steel pipe jutting out of the wall, and wondering how the day had gone so far south so fast. They had treated her like she was one of the Incurseans who'd decided to light up a cop on a busy street in the Bronx. She hoped Val had managed not to get herself arrested because it looked for all the world like she was on her own here, with no hope of getting to make her one phone-call. She'd heard of stories where big-city police departments made people _disappear_ for days on end with no charges filed and no opportunities to bond out. Six hours in, with nobody seeming to be interested in coming in to talk to her or getting her side of the story, it appeared that she was about to experience just that.

Finally, as she was considering the tempting offer of a place to sleep tendered by the table in front of her, she heard the lock turning in the door. Two big men came in followed by a smaller, older gentleman wearing a suit and tie. His neatly pressed suit and tie, and his demeanor said, 'Internal Affairs' without his lips moving. "Afternoon, Officer Mann," rumbled the older fellow. Slicking back her hair, Lucy replied, "hi." Nobody rushed to uncuff her, so it appeared she was still in shit-city. Sitting down in front of her at the table, the gentleman announced, "Don Adams, NYPD Internal Affairs..." Lucy sat up straighter. It appeared they were going somewhere now. Where that was, though, was still in doubt.

"Commissioner Williams is a bit upset at you," announced Don. "He's thinking of lodging a formal protest with your organization." Lucy now understood what this was about and why the NYPD's investigations branch was interested in _her_. They were blaming _her_ for the whole thing. Leaning forward, Mr. Adams asked, "so why were you in New York? We didn't receive any information on your activities here." "I'm here with my boyfriend to see his sister graduate college," replied Lucy. "Is that so," rumbled Adams? "Yup," replied Lucy. "You know it's a felony to bring a weapon into New York City. This isn't Bellwood, California," he told her.

Nodding, Lucy replied, "that would be why I didn't bring any weapons with me when I left California. My boyfriend told me about how you treat outsiders with weapons, so I left mine at home." The man glared at her, suggesting that he didn't appreciate what she was insinuating. "So who's weapons were you using, then," asked the IA officer? "Used your officer's Smith &amp; Wesson on the first frog," replied Lucy coolly. "Used the frog's weapon on his pals..." That suggestion of NYPD incompetence had both detectives glaring at her. Lucy smiled back sweetly.

"Why didn't you identify yourself as law enforcement," demanded the IA officer? "I did," retorted Lucy, "but your boy there was too busy trying to snap my vertebrae to listen. Fortunately my race is a bit more flexible than yours." She looked the bruiser in the eye and said, "nice way to treat a girl, by the way. I really liked it when one of you kept kicking me in the ribs." Two could play this game of insinuation. Mr. Adams growled, "you were resisting arrest..." "I went _limp_," retorted Lucy. "I'm sure Magister Tennyson could and probably already _has_ retrieved all the surveillance video from the stores and cameras nearby." Leaning forward, she said, "I saved one of your officers from getting shot to death, and now you want to punish me by going to my superiors with a pack of lies? Fuck. You."

The interview devolved down into a staring contest, with Lucy on one side, and the three idiots on the other. At the height of that ugly confrontation, there came a knocking at the door. One of the detectives went to the door and opened it. Lucy happened to glance outside to find that there was a bit of a crowd there. Adams got to his feet and went out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

Outside, Adams found his boss waiting, along with one of the city attorneys. "ABC just released somebody's cellphone video, showing her taking down one of the perps with that patrolman's gun," rumbled the attorney. Which was to say that the jig was up. They weren't going to be able to pin this on her. "What the fuck are we going to do," asked Adams? "If the Justice Department learns we've been hiding evidence of aliens here in the city..."

The senior IA officer growled, "we got bigger problems than that. Heads are gonna roll when the city council finds out." They'd been hiding this for more than six months. "First thing's first," rumbled the attorney. "Get her out of here. Issue her an official apology. Anything you need to do, but get her out of here." Turning to his subordinate, the senior IA officer said, "go." Don Adams scooted out of there like his feet were burning.

Lucy was laying back in her chair, keeping one eye on the two cops and considering sleep when the door opened again. This time it admitted a different man. Nodding at the two cops, he sent them scurrying out of the room. That said something about who this guy was. "You must be Mr. Adams' boss," murmured Lucy. "I am," replied the cop. Leaning over the table, he took the handcuffs off her wrist. Lucy immediately drew her hand back. They _might_ be getting somewhere. Then again, they might be trying to set her up for attempted escape or something.

Reaching into a pocket, he brought out her badge and ID and even laid the Incursean pistol on the table. Lucy took her badge and ID and put them back in her pocket, but she left the gun on the table. _Nice try, buddy,_ she thought. "I'll have Magister Tennyson process the paperwork to take custody of it," said Lucy. The NYPD officer took the gun back, his expression suggesting defeat. Yes, this was exactly what she thought it was. She was supposed to be caught raising hell in the Big Apple, so the locals could point fingers and say, 'look what these people do'. Lucy wasn't playing. She knew better.

Rising, the cop opened the door and stepped into the hall, leaving the door open. Of course he hadn't said she was free to go. Lucy stayed right where she was. Moments later, Mike stepped in. Lucy was stunned for a moment. Then, without further hesitation, she rose up and threw herself on him. Mike hugged his girl as she sobbed into his coat. He'd seen the whole thing on TV, and he'd been scared to death and proud all at once. When he saw those four apes knock Lucy down and start beating on her, he'd wanted to come down and beat their heads in. Stroking her long blonde hair, Mike whispered soothing words in her ear. This was nothing. These people were nothing.

The squad room was silent as Mike led his girl out of that place. The Bellwood cop's face was almost purple with rage, and he was close to blowing a fuze. Part of it was shame and humiliation that his former colleagues would do what they'd done. Part of it was rage. He wanted to find the guy who'd had his foot on Lucy's back and break his fucking leg off at the knee! As they neared the door, one of the men there in the room rose from his desk. Stepping in front of the pair, he offered Lucy a sincere apology, saying, "you saved my life, Miss. Thanks. I don't know how to repay you, but someday I'll find a way." And then he got out of their way and let them go.

Val was waiting in the car outside with Mike's mom, and she popped the locks, letting Mike slip into the passenger seat and Lucy into the backseat. Mike's sister was _excited_ as she pulled out into traffic. "Wow," said Val. "You were fucking amazing, Lucy! I never saw anything like that except on TV!" Silvia's mind was on Lucy. She was a mess, with her makeup smeared and her eyes looking like she'd been crying for hours. The older woman immediately wrapped Lucy up in a bear hug and tried to kiss the tears away. "Where'd you learn to do all that," asked Val? "You guys got some kind of ninja academy?" "Val," growled Silvia! "Knock it off already!"

Val drove them straight back to the house, where Silvia insisted on hauling Lucy to her bedroom and stripping her to look her over for injuries. Mike waited in the living room, pacing the floor, and looking more angry than Val had ever seen him in her life, which said something about how much he loved Lucy. While Mike paced, and Val watched, a beeping sound drew their attention to Lucy's purse. Mike went straight to the couch and pulled a small object out from under Lucy's hairbrush. Clicking a contact on the side, Mike said, "go." A voice came out of the device, "Stack? Is that you?" "Yes, sir," replied Mike. "You private," asked the voice? "Will be in a minute," said Mike, as he headed for the basement. Val wanted to follow, but that voice sounded very official.

While Mike was down there, Silvia came out with Lucy, announcing, "you're going to the doctor's, young lady. That's final..." Lucy was trying to wriggle out of that, which made absolutely no sense to Silvia. While Lucy hemmed and hawed about feeling ok, Aunt Edith came knocking. The minute Val opened the door, her aunt was in the room, demanding to see Lucy. "What the hell were you thinking," demanded Edith?! "Edith, don't start," growled Silvia. "She's hurt. I think one of her ribs is broken..." Edith gasped, "we gotta take her to the doctor's..." "Been trying to do that for fifteen minutes," retorted Silvia. "She won't go." "Why not," demanded Edith? "Are you crazy?" Val knew immediately why she didn't want to go. Mike still hadn't managed to tell their family just what Lucy was.

"Where's Mike," asked Silvia? "In the basement on the phone, ma," replied Val. She had to figure out what she should do. She didn't want to be the one to break the news to her mother, but she was also afraid Lucy's condition might worsen. They didn't know what was wrong with her, and Val knew nobody here was qualified to judge. Silvia went to the head of the basement stairs, shouting for Mike. "In a minute," Mike shouted back! "This won't wait," shouted Silvia. "We're taking Lucy to the doctor's..."

Mike hastened to end his conversation with the Magister, then ran back up the stairs. His heart was in his eyes as he came into the living room. "I'm ok," muttered Lucy. "Her side hurts, and she can't raise her arm," grumbled Silvia. "C'mon, babe," said Mike. "We're goin'." Seeing that he had her comlink in hand, she asked, "who called?" "Was the old man," sighed Mike. "He saw the whole thing. He wants t'debrief you as soon as he can." "Doctor first," growled Silvia. "I'm not going," muttered Lucy, as she sat down on the couch. Val told Mike, "you better tell ma..."

"Tell me what," asked Silvia? At Mike's grim look, the older woman demanded, "tell me what, Michael? What don't I know?" "I'm not human," murmured Lucy. "Going to a human doctor isn't going to help me..." Silvia's hand came up to her mouth. She stared at Lucy a moment. Then her legs tried to buckle. Mike caught her and got her seated in the recliner. Edith dropped bonelessly into a seat on the opposite couch, staring at Lucy, who was staring at the floor.

Silence reigned for a long few moments until finally Edith screwed up the courage to ask, "what do you mean, _not human_?" "I'm a Lenopan," sighed Lucy. "Like from outer space," demanded Edith? "I was born in Wyoming," muttered Lucy. "My ancestors came from a planet a thousand light years from here and settled in Copper Springs." Silvia glared at her son, and demanded, "why didn't you tell us this?" Mike shrugged, "I didn't get a chance. I was trying to work my way around to it." "Work your way around to it," howled Edith?! "What the hell does _that_ mean?"

Val whistled, interrupting the shouting. "Can we focus on Lucy," demanded Val? "The person who just got the crap kicked out of her by New York's finest?" Both older women flushed. "C'mon, Luce," said Mike. "We won't know until we get there." He insisted, and, in the end, he got his way. The family piled into Edith's Crown Victoria, and they all drove down to Baywood General. Arriving at the hospital, they settled into the queue there, waiting their turn to see the doctor. Sitting on a bench, half-wearing her blouse, Lucy asked, "what did the Magister want?" Mike replied, "I told him about what went down, but that we really didn't know anything. I told him there was a gun, and that he needed to file papers to collect it. He said he'd get back with us. He was going to go hit the Commissioner."

Lucy lay her head on his shoulder. Mike slipped his arm around her waist. He wanted to kill those fucking guys, but he had to remain calm for her. Now he understood how Ben felt at the height of the trial when Attea's uncle tried to use earthly laws to snatch her away. "It'll be ok, Luce," said he. Lucy nodded.

While they waited, Lucy's comlink chirped. Mike fished it out of his pocket and clicked it on. "Go," he announced. "This is Dr. Schappert," replied the person on the other end of the connection. "I understand Ms. Mann is injured." "Not sure," said Mike. "We're sitting here in Baywood General, waitin' to see the doctor." There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then, "alright. When you get in, put me on with the attending physician." "Will do, doc," replied Mike.

Minutes later, the nurse called Lucy to the triage station, and Mike immediately called Dr. Schappert back. As the nurse took Lucy's vital signs, the Dr. gave her explicit instructions, while Mike looked on in worry. Fortunately, though the nurse was stunned by Lucy's temperature, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. After another wait, Lucy was taken into the back where she was met by Dr. Lois Fine, an attractive older woman in her forties. The flamboyant doctor came in dressed in hot-pink scrubs over purple tennis shoes.

"So what appears to be the problem," asked the Doctor in a deep, nasally voice? "Got beat up by the cops," muttered Lucy. Dr. Fine glanced at the tall man standing beside the patient, and said, "you sure that's what happened?" Lucy knew what she was thinking. Blonde girl comes in with big, burly guy. Burly guy has instructed blonde girl to lie about how she got hurt. "_It was on TV_," retorted Lucy. The Dr.'s mouth came open. "Oh, my gawd," she gasped! "You're that girl from Mission Avenue..." Lucy nodded. "That was _amazing_," said the doctor, as she unbuttoned Lucy's blouse. "Police these days! Girl, you're lucky you didn't get _shot_!" Lucy muttered something under her breath.

Mike interrupted the exam, announcing, "little complication, doc..." Lois frowned at him. "Lucy's... not one of us...," said Mike. Dr. Schappert announced, "let me handle this, Mr. Stack." Lois jumped. She hadn't realized the man had his cellphone on. Mike put the comlink down on the table and pressed the control to activate its hologram feature. The face on the other end of the line was like something out of his nightmares. It was a Lenopan, like Lucy, but in his natural form. "Dr. Fine," announced the alien, "I'm going to need you to get a couple of really high-quality x-rays..." "Oh-ok," stammered the startled physician. Lois Fine went out into the hall and ordered up some X-Rays. Then the waiting began.

Lucy sat there enduring a string of questions from both doctors–one focused on figuring out if anything was wrong with her, the other more interested in learning about alien anatomy. When the nurse came to take her away to be x-rayed, it was a _relief_. Twenty minutes later, Lucy was back in the waiting room, hanging out and waiting to hear the news. "So that's what you really look like," murmured Val? "Sort of," replied Lucy. "I think he wanted to make sure Dr. Fine understood what she was dealing with." He'd turned up the 'scary' to eleven.

The nurse came out and summoned them back inside. Lucy climbed up on the exam table to get the verdict. "Just a deep tissue bruise," announced Schappert, who now looked like an ordinary human. "I can prescribe a pain-killer, if you'd like, Ms. Mann." "Need to stay straight," replied Lucy. "Can I go now?" Both doctors gave her an emphatic 'stay out of trouble' and sent her on her way.

Outside, Mike found himself asking the question that was burning in his mind. "So how come those other guys can eat bullets like that," he asked? "They thin their bodies out and compact their organs, so it's harder to hit something vital," replied Lucy. "If I wanted, I could disjoint my limbs and thin myself out too, but since I didn't want to end up standing on the street naked as a jaybird..." Besides which, it had been bad enough getting beat up by a half-dozen guys. Even if they missed your organs, being repeatedly shot still wasn't exactly fun times.

Mike whistled. He hadn't known that. He would have to remember it if he ever ran into a rogue Lenopan again. Val asked, "would your kids be able to do all that stuff too?" "Yes," replied Lucy. "My cousin's kids were a little slower in learning, but they can hold human shape for more than a day now." Turning to Silvia, Lucy asked the obvious, "how do you feel about all this?" Silvia shrugged, "I married a gentile. What right have I got to complain?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

It was midnight, and the family had only just walked into Silvia's house and sat down, when the knocking came at the door. "Who could it be _now_," muttered Silvia? Heading back to the door, she found her ex-husband on the doorstep alongside her eldest son. "Silvia," rumbled Bill Sr. "Mikey here?" Turning to her son, Silvia announced, "it's y'er father." Mike got up and went outside to where his father and brother stood.

"Judging by the fact you're in uniform, you didn't come t'say hello," said Mike. His father wore a hang-dog expression. "I'm supposed t'pick your brain, Mikey," sighed Bill Sr. "My boss wants t'know about these Plumber people, and he wants to know as much as you can tell us about these aliens." "He coulda' tried askin' the Plumber they had in lockup for six hours," grumbled Mike. "Yeah," sighed his father. "Nobody was really happy about that, Mikey." Both men were keenly embarrassed to have another cop get the shit beaten out of her on a street just north of downtown–by their own brothers no less–for the crime of helping out one of their patrolmen.

"If you want my help, no more lies," announced Lucy. The two Bills turned to face the alien woman standing at the top of the stairs. Mike gave his father and brother an ironic look. Walking down the stairs, Lucy said, "those three frogs were there to meet somebody. Who was it?" Bill Sr. glanced away. Lucy coldly told him, "then they'll continue to do whatever they're doing. They'll kill your officers when they get in the way. They'll turn your underworld upside down, and it'll all eventually spill out into the streets–and the lives of normal people." Just like in Bellwood. The two NYPD cops found themselves having a bit of a staring contest with the alien woman.

Bill Sr. blinked first. Softly, he said, "it was a sting operation... We... There's been this high-quality super-smack on the streets the last six months. We've had an epidemic of junkies dieing over it. The narcotics unit was trying to track the stuff to the source. We figured it was some outfit out of the far east. We couldn't get anybody to tell us about the connect, though, and we couldn't figure out where the money was going. They were buying platinum and some crazy metal called Neodymium..." Mike frowned. That wasn't something the Mexican cartels cared about. They wanted US dollars.

"That's the other thing," rumbled Jr. "Somebody's been whacking a lot of the usual dope-boys. They're... They're just _disappearing_. Latin Kings. Bloods. MS13. They're getting decimated." They'd seen twenty bodies turn up in the last week. All of them had holes through the center of their foreheads or holes through the middle of their chest–straight through. Said holes were burnt black. "Plasma guns," muttered Lucy. "That's when we guessed aliens," muttered Bill Sr.

"The brass wanted to see if our hunch was right," said the Captain. "We had the go-between under surveillance. He was just a small-time hood six months ago. We were tryin' to follow him up the chain to the supplier. Figured he was meeting the supplier's flunky in the park. We'd pick up the flunky and follow him home. We weren't planning on arresting him..." "But the patrolmen assigned to the park blundered into the operation," rumbled Mike. "_Fuck_!" They'd had three uninvolved cops walk into the scene, which pretty much blew the plan out of the water. Now Lucy knew where all the other cops came from. They were part of the planned surveillance.

"For the record," announced Lucy. "I would have kept my face out of things until the shooting started." She had no reason or need to involve herself, especially with a civilian in tow. The last thing she wanted was for her sister-in-law to get hurt in a shootout. Nor did she particularly want to be the only person at said shootout with no gun. It was the risk when you did surveillance on the street like that. That was why the bad guys picked the park in the first place–it raised the cops' risk and reduced theirs.

Silence took hold again. Neither side really had a whole lot more to say. Emotions were very raw, and there were prying ears nearby. Seeing Lucy wobbling there–and knowing she hadn't slept much the previous night–Mike decided to cut the conversation short. Turning to his girl, he said, "c'mon, babe. Inside... Time t'go to bed." She was jet-lagged out of her mind, and it now looked like she'd finally be able to sleep. "See you in the morning, pop," said Mike, as he scooped his girl up and carried her up the steps.

Just as the two doctors predicted, Lucy was a mass of aches and pains when she got up the next morning. She had aches in places that she hadn't even realized were injured. Worse, she was _covered_ in ugly purple splotches, including a particularly ugly one under her right arm. She was a mess, and Mike was angry all over again.

A trip to the shower helped a lot. At least she was _moving_ when she left the bathroom, but her side was even worse. She couldn't raise her arm level with her shoulder at all, which made getting dressed a chore. "Guess it wasn't a good idea to just bring pull-overs," muttered Lucy. Silvia came in with the blouse she'd been wearing yesterday. "I washed this," she said. Shooing Mike out, the older woman helped her soon-to-be daughter-in-law get dressed. It took a bit.

No sooner had Lucy emerged from Mike's old bedroom, than knocking at the door announced trouble. Val went to the door and opened it to find a cop there. "Is a Ms. Lucy Mann here," he asked? "Yeah," growled Val. "Whaddya' need?" "The Commissioner wants to speak with her," replied the cop. Val turned to find Mike standing at her right shoulder, glaring at the patrolman. "Commissioner said to bring you too, sir," said the cop. Inside, Lucy went and got her coat, while Silvia howled complaints. "They haven't had breakfast yet," growled the older woman! "It won't wait," said the cop.

Lucy emerged from the bedroom with her coat and Mike's. Mike slipped his on with ease, but he had to help Lucy into hers. Walking down the stairs, Mike quizzed their driver about the reason for the sudden summons. "They didn't tell me, sir," replied the younger man. It said something about the urgency of the summons that the young patrolman went lights-and-siren all the way to police headquarters. It was the craziest limo-ride Mike had ever seen, and he still wasn't sure they wouldn't be facing cuffs and harrassment when they arrived.

The patrolman pulled into an underground loading dock, where a couple of Inspectors were waiting. Helping his lady out of the car, Mike asked the question again, "what's this about?" "Upstairs," muttered the older of the pair. Minutes later, the couple followed the two Inspectors out of an elevator on the top floor. Just steps away they found themselves walking into a conference room to find Helen Wheels standing there. Her comlink was on the table and Magister Tennyson's face was floating above it.

Helen immediately went to hug Lucy. Lucy bit her lip against the pain as her friend touched one of her bruises. Max Tennyson cleared his throat, interrupting the little reunion. "Sir," Lucy greeted the Magister. Mike helped her into a chair while the Commissioner and Chief looked on in embarrassment. "Now that we're all here," said Max Tennyson.

Helen started things off, announcing, "we believe a cell of Incursean sleeper agents is present in New York City. They're loyal to Vanos Myrdral, and they appear to have landed last year at the tail end of the usurper's attempt on his niece's life." That explained a lot. "What're they after," asked Mike? "Do we know?" "Not a clue," replied Helen. "We don't have numbers. We don't have names. All we really have is evidence provided by Commissioner Williams..."

Mike glanced to the Commissioner. Blowing out a breath, Bruce Williams announced, "when the junkies started dieing, we got concerned. When the numbers started rising, we thought we had another Frank Lucas on our hands. Well, the number of dead junkies is so high, the morgue can't keep up, but the number of addicts is going higher than before..." Scrubbing his hands through his hair, Mike said, "that's not possible." "That's we thought," retorted Inspector Graves.

Helen reported, "I ran a sample of the drug through analysis. It's been altered chemically to tailor it to human brain chemistry. It's instantly addictive. The addiction's so powerful that the user would need advanced medicine to break free." "Alien science," muttered Mike. "Ok, so now he's got an army of junkies hooked on poison. What does that buy him?" Lucy rumbled, "local currency." The NYPD cops all turned to look at her. She'd kept her silence, as if reminding them of the way she'd been treated the day before.

In a clear voice, Lucy announced, "he tried to do his last deal by barter. He tried to acquire a sustainable slave population that he could sell on in exchange for weapons. That doesn't work well. Slaves are a hard product to sell, and he has to maintain them until he can dump them, which eats into profit..." All the humans except Max grimaced. Lucy said, "he'll earn local currency that can be traded for something he can use. That will get shipped off Earth to support his war-effort."

That was starting to make sense, but Inspector Graves couldn't understand the part heroin played. "Why not cosmetics or food or machines," asked the Inspector? Mike fielded that one, "Prime Directive, Inspector. It's illegal for aliens to come here and just start hawking their wares. The Magister would have shut him down. Besides which, he's a wanted man on the run from his own people. It would have been a little tough for his guys to just swing by and hang out while securing FDA approval. Not to mention, he needs money _now_." Heroin was a ready-made product that he could sell for big money, and he didn't need government approval to sell it.

"Shit," groaned the Commissioner. This was just getting _worse_. "I have an alien warlord hustling dope on my streets, whacking my criminals by the basketful, and building supplies for a war," he griped! With a smile, Mike said, "you also got some of the best cops in the galaxy here to help." Inspector Graves asked, "you say he's buying something. What?" Lucy shrugged, "no clue. Without knowing what material he lacks, it's hard to say. We'll know it when we see it." "Fine, fine," growled the Commissioner. "You now have official permission to find these guys and stop the madness. Any resources you need. Whatever it takes. Get a list to Inspector Graves." Mike blinked in surprise, but Max Tennyson announced, "Mike? I spoke to Chief Carson last night. You're officially on loan to the NYPD." "Yes, sir," replied Mike. It was time to get busy.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Walking down the hall towards Inspector Graves' office, Mike laid out all the things they were going to need. "Need a secure place to store evidence and plan," said he. "Gonna need our own lockup. We're not gonna' want Incurseans in with our usual punks. Need a couple of really good techies out of cyber-crimes, and I need the four officers on this list assigned to plain-clothes work. Today." "Why these four," asked Graves? "They're young," replied Mike. "Their minds are still open."

When the threesome were in his office, Graves shut the door. Settling behind his desk, he turned on the projector and started digging through his computer. "There's an old precinct-house in Flushing Queens. It was scheduled for tear-down, but it's still city-property for the moment. Will that do?" "We'll take it," said Lucy.

"Parking," asked Mike? He knew better than any of his companions just how tough it was for even the police to get parking in New York! "It's got a couple of bays for paddy-wagons," replied Graves. "Cells down in the basement. Two interview rooms upstairs. Before they decided to knock it down, it had been outfitted with hookups for internet." It was everything they needed. All they needed now was the keys.

"I'll have facilities meet you there," said Graves, "and I'll send for these four." "Good enough," said Mike. "One more thing," said Lucy. Graves' eyes fell on her, and it was clear Lucy made him uncomfortable. The alien woman said, "the last time we tangled with Vanos, he had Lenopan spies working for him. It's a safe bet that if he's invested in this scheme, he's got more of them here. We may be looking at infiltrators. We'll need you to restrict access to our activities to the highest levels." Graves gave her a sour look, but he nodded. Rising, Mike thanked the Inspector, took his lady by the hand, and headed out.

Outside, they piled into the beat-up Chevy Astro that Helen had come in. Mike took the wheel, announcing, "anybody for late breakfast?" "I'm game," replied Helen. She'd hot-footed it over here from the West-Coast before sunup. "Yeah," said Mike. "We missed dinner, and Lucy didn't even get lunch yesterday." Putting the van in gear, Mike set off.

They made quite the scene with Helen sitting there at the table with them. Everybody who came in gave the blue-skinned woman the eye. Mike wasn't sure he could have handled that, and he had been very tempted to suggest they eat out in the van. Helen behaved as if she didn't even notice. Mike had been a bit surprised to find out that the black object he'd thought was part of her head was some kind of helmet. The little woman actually had short, dark hair done in a page-boy cut that looked surprisingly attractive.

The little speed-freak was having a lot of trouble talking about nothing just now. All she really wanted to talk about was the case. She was the definition of antsy, like a six-year-old wound up on Coca-Cola and chocolate bars. Lucy, who seemed to be used to this, kept up a steady chatter, deflecting Helen from delving into business in a crowded diner. She'd been talking about meeting Mike's family, though she was a little disappointed at the way she'd met Mike's dad.

"So when are you proposing," asked Helen? Mike blushed to his ears, but Helen got the impression he'd been intending it for a time when they weren't being hassled by the Magister, the NPYPD Commissioner, and the US Federal Government. It wasn't _if_, but _when_. His embarrassment made Helen giggle. "What about you," asked Lucy? "When's Manny popping the question?" Helen blushed and looked away. "He's not," she muttered.

At Lucy's frown, Helen said, "he won't commit." They'd been together for several years now, and Helen had finally given him an ultimatum. "Sooo, he dumped me," she admitted. Lucy's jaw came open. Helen nodded. "He was nice about it, but he dumped me," she repeated. "Said I was in too big a hurry..." Lucy wanted to bust his jaw. "I...it's ok, Lucy," sighed Helen. "Some things just aren't meant to be. I'm a freak... That's really all there is to it."

An awkward moment ensued, and Mike tried to paper over the damage, announcing, "you're welcome t'stop by and have dinner with us, Helen. Ma's a good cook." "Thanks, Mike," chuckled Helen. "Thanks for trying." Done with her lunch, Helen got up and headed outside. Mike turned to his lady, who was mortified. Taking her hand, he asked, "how're you holding up, babe?" "Pain's subsided some," Lucy admitted. She was no longer having trouble getting up or sitting down, and she could raise her arm up to shoulder height now. "Give it a day," advised Mike. Done with his own breakfast, he said, "let's get at it."

Mike took the wheel again, driving the three of them over the bridge to Flushing and down to the abandoned precinct-house. As promised, there was a facilities van out front with two jokers inside waiting on them. Mike walked right up, flashed his BPD badge, and asked for the keys. The two men couldn't really help staring at Helen as she and Lucy stood in front of the beat-up Chevy.

Knowing Helen was in an emotional low, Mike decided they could do without that. "Yeah," said Mike. "An alien. Gimme the keys and get lost." "Sure, buddy," said the older of the two as he handed them over. "Heat's on. Electricity's on. Internet's down... Some wise-ass broke in and stole some of the wiring." "We can fix it," said Mike. "Thanks." The two drove off, and Mike got the door open, signaling for his two companions to come in.

The station was a bit of a mess, with graffiti on some of the walls and trash strewn across the floor. Discarded bottles suggested that homeless people had lived here. It wasn't pretty. "Let's check out the lockup," suggested Mike. Together, the threesome headed for the basement. "Phew," whistled Helen in her melodious voice. "If we catch any frogs, they're going to love it down here."

The lockup was in good shape, with fresh-paint on the bars and well-maintained locks. "Why's this place abandoned," asked the hybrid? "This is New York. Left hand doesn't know–or care–what the right hand does, Helen," opined Mike. "Some guy got told to come paint the cells... His job's t'paint iron bars, not to ask questions about how long the place is stayin' open..." Sneezing, he said, "let's get out of here. I think we've seen enough."

Coming off the stairs, the trio came face-to-face with the foursome who'd taken Mike to dinner. "Hey, Stack," announced Nick, "what gives?" "Mornin', fellas," replied Mike. "Welcome to your temporary home." The foursome gave him identical looks of nervous puzzlement. "Commissioner Williams asked Lucy and I to take care of a problem," explained Mike. "I asked for you guys as backup." Seeing how they took that, he added, "strictly volunteer. You wanna' leave, you're free to go..."

Tim, who never rushed into anything, immediately agreed. Nick, who rarely looked before he leaped, spent the second longest stretch thinking this through. Reese took longest of all. She had a three year-old kid. Finally, after an interminable wait, the young mother said, "ok... When do we start..."

Lucy announced, "Monday. I need somebody to take me to the evidence lockup so I can see what the frogs had in their pockets. We also need somebody to look up a gangster with the name Chico. Dump the uniforms. We don't want to stand out right now. Helen? Need this place set up. See if the old man will let us borrow Molly and the Alphas." "Right," agreed Helen. "We may need firepower. I'll borrow Blukic and Driba to set up defenses and the containment downstairs. Should take half a day..." "Which should give us just enough time to get to the graduation," said Mike. Handing Helen the keys to the building, he said, "we'll be back at six to get you for dinner. Call me if something comes up in the meantime." "I'll be ok," said Helen. "I'll pop down the street for something. You guys enjoy the party." "You sure," asked Mike? "Get," said Helen sternly!

Mike managed to get them across town to ESU in just a few minutes. "You're piloting skills have improved," said Lucy as they walked into the auditorium. "I've had a good teacher," replied Mike. Standing at the entry, his sharp eyes picked up his mother and aunts up in the balcony seating. Slipping out to the stairs, they went up to the balcony and were delighted to find that Silvia had saved them seats. "I was afraid you wouldn't make it," whispered Mike's mom. It had been close. They missed most of the ceremony, but Val hadn't walked on stage yet.

Now, as the President of the college gave his closing remarks, the class stood up to get their diplomas. One by one, the names got called, and the students went up to the cheers of their friends and family. Mike and Lucy were focused with laser precision on the little brunette sitting at the end of the fifth row. When Valerie Stack got up, the whole family shot to their feet and gave her a standing ovation. When the last student had gotten his diploma and returned to his seat, the students gave each other a tremendous cheer and hurled their hats into the air.

"Bring back any memories, Lucy," shouted Silvia?! "A little," laughed Lucy! They didn't get caps and gowns at the Plumber academy. As the cheering died down, the graduates had the inevitable scramble to locate a cap and tassel to take home. Then they all came trickling out of the auditorium. While they waited to get out of the auditorium, Bill Sr. asked, "how'd that thing go this morning, Mikey?" "Went alright, pop," replied Mike. "We'll be handling the problem from here on." "We," asked Jr.? "Lucy and I," said Mike. His brother grunted something impolite. He didn't seem terribly happy about that development.

When the crowd had thinned enough, the family slipped out of their seats and down the stairs to the exit. Mike got on the phone and called his sister, who reported she was slipping out of the back door. Silvia met her there with the car, and the whole family convoyed back to Silvia's place. Inside, Silvia started the process of laying out dinner, while her family settled around the coffee table. "Gonna' go help your mom, hon," announced Lucy, as she got up and scooted into the kitchen. Valerie got up and followed, giving Mike a hug and a wink on her way.

"Your girlfriend's smokin'," announced Dick, Val's boyfriend. Mike chuckled. Yes, she was. "So what's she _really_ look like," asked Jr.? At his father's questioning look, Mike admitted, "Lucy's an alien, pop. I was looking for a good time to tell you all, but it kinda' came out yesterday when we took her t'the hospital." Bill Sr.'s mouth came open. "Are you tellin' me dat goil...," he stammered? Mike nodded.

"Mikey, are you crazy," asked his dad? "Toldja', pop," replied Mike. "Lucy's the love of my life. Just like she is. No matter what she looks like." "She looks pretty damned good, if you ask me," opined Dick. "Keep tellin' yourself that, bro," retorted Billy. Mike shrugged that off, changing the subject, "sorry if I was a little nasty last night, pop. I was still upset about that thing in the park." Sr. replied, "I understand, son. If it had been your mom, I'd have been that way too." He _had_ been that way when some guy spat on Silvia's shoes. He'd gotten an official reprimand for punching the guy in the jaw, but everybody patted him on the back for it. Disgusted, Jr. announced, "I need a drink." Without a further word, he got up and headed downstairs to his room to grab the bottle of Scotch he had down there, leaving his brother and father upstairs with Val's boyfriend.

"Is he ok," asked Mike? "He's been better, son," muttered Bill Sr. "This thing with Karen's hitting him hard. He doesn't get to see his kids, and he's angry about it." "What happened with the counseling," asked Mike? "I thought he was going to see somebody?" The terms of the custody agreement required him to take counseling for his anger management issues and to start attending AA meetings. "He's got a lot of me in him, son," sighed Sr. "He doesn't like anybody telling him what to do." Mike let the subject drop for the moment, but he couldn't help thinking that his brother was about to make his problems _permanent_.

Meanwhile, back at Mike's new office, a couple of his new teammates were getting acquainted. "So your name is Helen," rumbled Nick Luchini. "Yeah," said Helen. "That's right." They were pushing brooms around their new digs, cleaning up the worst of the mess. The other three cops had left not long after Lucy and Mike, leaving Nick here alone with the alien girl. He'd decided that he might as well hang out and roll up his sleeves. This was his hometown and his jurisdiction after all.

"So why that name," he asked? Helen frowned at him. "Well, I figured you'd have some unpronounceable name," said Nick. "What? Do you all just take human names?" Helen found herself wanting to cuss him. Her earlier conversation with Lucy and Mike was still bugging her, even if she _had_ asked for it. "C'mon," persisted the cop. "Answer the question..." Helen glared at him. For answer, he gave her a smile. Turning away, Helen said, "my mother gave it to me. Can't ask her why because she's dead." "Sorry," muttered Nick. Helen waved that away. She just wanted him to shut up.

The two of them swept the mess down towards the front door of the precinct house to be collected later. In the middle of sweeping, a giant rat came darting out of one of the piles and ran straight between Helen's legs. "Jesus," shouted the hybrid! One moment she was standing in front of the Captain's office. The next she was clear on the other side of the room. "Did you just teleport," gobbled Nick?! "I ran," panted Helen! "That was the biggest fucking rat I've ever seen..." "Welcome to New York," replied Nick.

She could still see the fucking thing. "Kill it," she shouted! "Kill it quick!" "It's just a rat," said Nick. "Did you really just _run_ across the room?" "Yeah," muttered Helen. "Watch." In the blink of an eye, she'd crossed the room, taken the broom from his hands, and run back to where she started–after running around him a couple of times for good measure. "What the hell are you," stammered Nick? "Kineceleran... Mostly... Sort of...," said Helen. He quirked an eyebrow and asked, "what does that mean? And thanks for stirring up the funk..." "I started out human," sighed Helen. "I was an orphan. Somebody picked me up off the streets and turned me into... _this_. It was an experiment... I... learned to cope."

Now he knew why she had a human name, and he _really_ felt like an asshole. Glancing away, he said, "sorry about that question... I just assumed." "Not your fault," sighed Helen. "I'm a freak. It is what it is." He wanted to refute that, but the honest truth was that Helen _was_ a freak. There was no getting around it. "Ah," said Nick. "You should enjoy it. Bet you'd be a riot at parties." Her comlink began to beep, and Helen pulled it from her pocket. "Go," she said.

It was Molly. "We just left Bellwood," said the leader of Alpha Team. "We'll be there in an hour. I got Blukic and Driba–and Fergi to ride herd on the two of them." "Roger that," sighed Helen. "See you when I see you." She signed off. "That was Alpha Team," said the Kineceleran. "They're on their way. Be here in an hour with our equipment." "In that case, I'll buy dinner," said Nick. "There's a place up the street. Looks clean." Helen sighed. She _was_ hungry. "Ok," muttered the hybrid.

The restaurant was one of the charming little mom &amp; pop restaurants that New York was famous for. It hardly looked the part of an ethnic hot-spot, reminding Helen more of one of the nasty greasy-spoons she remembered from Bellwood's mean-streets. She and Pierce had eaten in a couple of those places on the owners' charity once upon a time. Surprisingly this place was an Indian eatery, and Helen's nose was stung by the scent of spices the moment she walked through the door.

The owner came out from behind the counter, announcing, "welcome, my friends! Please come and sit down!" He was a large Hindi man with a barrel chest, bald head, and massive arms. His wife, a portly woman dressed in traditional attire, came out to the dining area to take their orders. Helen had just taken off the traditional Kineceleran pointed hat. Nick was surprised to find she had hair–a surprisingly cute page-boy cut framing her narrow face.

The Hindi woman asked, "is there a convention in town...?" Helen pretended like she hadn't heard the question. Nick took the liberty of ordering for both of them. As the old woman headed out back, Nick opened the conversation with his new coworker. "So we didn't really get introduced," said he. "I'm Nick. Nick Luchini." "Helen Wheels," replied the hybrid. "How long have you known Mike," asked Nick? "A year," answered Helen. "What do you think of him," asked Nick? Which was as good as him asking what she thought of _him_.

Blowing out a breath, Helen apologized, "look... I'm sorry I snapped earlier. It's nothing personal. I've... got some stuff going on in my life, and it makes me... crabby..." Nick waved that away. "Me and the fellas... We're curious is all," said Nick. "You guys are something we see on TV." "Not anymore we're not," laughed Helen. She had a nice laugh, and he said so. "There's one thing that's not freaky about you." Her face darkened, and he realized she was actually blushing.

The old woman came back with their dinner–Chicken in a spicy curry that stung Helen's nose before she even took a bite. _Hope I don't regret this,_ thought the hybrid. Helen took the first bite and found it burned all the way down, but it burned sooo good! "Good," asked Nick? "Yeah," said Helen. "Where you from," asked Nick? "Bellwood, California's the only place I've really known," replied Helen. "Judging by the accent, you're a New Yorker born and raised." "Guilty," laughed Nick. "Any family," asked Nick? "Adopted brother," sighed Helen. "Deceased." Nick winced. It seemed like she had problems on problems. No wonder she was angry.

Changing the subject, Nick asked, "sooo, how fast can you run?" "Ran across a lake, didn't get my feet wet," replied Helen. "Seriously," howled Nick? Shaking his head, he said, "are all aliens like you?" "No," said Helen. "Enough of them are that we have to have countermeasures." "How long you been a cop," he asked? "Two years," Helen replied. "You?" "Six," replied Nick. "They sure give you guys a lot of responsibility." Helen shrugged, "we're the most alpha of alpha personalities, Nick. Every last one of us. Lucy may seem like a sweet kid–like some giggling airhead–but she's done stuff that would scare the shit out of you. I don't know how that man manages because half the Plumbers at this station think she's gonna' check out in a really ugly way some day." Helen wouldn't have married Lucy on a bet.

"W-what does she do," asked Nick? He was nervous now. With a shrug, Helen explained, "she's the Magister's top undercover agent. She's gone deep undercover in places I'd be afraid of storming with an army. She's my best friend, and I think she's crazy as a loon. We... grow up fast because they don't send us to walk a beat, and all of us are involved in this because we basically fought to be in it." Warming to her subject, she said, "I've flown pursuit-ships across Saturn's rings, chasing slavers after they'd raided a village in the Andes mountains. I've stormed an Incursean warship for crossing into neutral space. Stared down an angry Pyronite." That had been her first six months on the job. "Wow," rumbled Nick. It wasn't like putting in a couple years at the academy.

With a sigh, Helen admitted, "there's just not enough of us. They get us young, and they run us until we're ready to croak. The Magister's in his sixties, and I wouldn't be surprised if they keep patching him to keep him going until he's eighty." Strangely, Nick envied her, just like he'd envied Mike. He was _bored_ here in the Big Apple. He was bored out of his mind patrolling the same streets every day, seeing the same people, and doing nothing more strenuous than writing the occasional ticket.

Done with dinner, the two headed back to the precinct house. Helen was calmer now, and Nick thought that maybe he'd made a difference. That's all most people needed after all–somebody to talk to. Halfway down the street, the sound of jet engines overhead announced the arrival of Mike's cavalry. "They make an entrance," whistled Nick as the strange aircraft landed on the roof. Helen laughed, "try not to drool on Molly..." Nick laughed too. The two wasted no time getting back down the street. Helen did the honors of unlocking the door, and they went up the stairs to find a beautiful young woman with cornflower blue eyes and short straw-colored hair. Now Nick knew what Helen meant because Molly was definitely drool-worthy.

"Nick," announced Helen, "I'd like to introduce Molly Gunther. She leads Alpha Team. They take on the tough jobs. Molly, this is Officer Nick Luchini." The two shook hands. Her grip was firm, and her hands work-hardened. She appeared to be the real-deal. "Let's get the Truk unloaded," said Molly. With a nod and a smile, Nick followed the two women up the stairs to the roof.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

It was the first time in a fair bit the whole of Mike Stack's family was gathered in one spot. Valerie was the youngest of his generation, and all of the older members of the family had spoiled her as a child. It was natural for them to all want to be there to see her graduate college and become an adult. Silvia, who'd begun going to temple again after years of going to church with Bill Sr., had invited the rabbi, and now he offered a prayer over the household.

Taking that with good grace, Bill Sr. was happy to offer an Amen like everyone else. He was _trying_. Lucy could see he still loved Silvia, and he was trying to mend fences. She found that, in spite of his flaws, she was starting to like Mike's dad. The older man seemed to be accepting her just fine as she was. It was Mike's _brother_ that she wanted to strangle. He'd been making subtly snide comments all evening–to the point where Mike had come close to losing his temper. Bill Jr. had made sure everybody who came through that door knew she wasn't human.

Of course it absolutely fried him that most there just seemed to take that in stride. Lucy did her best to ignore him, and pretty soon he was marginalized and all but forgotten while Lucy expounded on her rather eclectic family. She had a hundred stories about the people she'd left in Copper Springs when she moved to Bellwood, and a hundred more about the Tennyson clan. With Ben now the de-facto public face of the Plumbers, everyone in the house was fascinated by him.

With the wine and food flowing, and just about everybody in the family present, it was as good a time as any for Mike to propose. Now he shouted for everyone to quiet down as he took Lucy's hand. "I got an announcement to make," said the young policeman. Lucy was blushing to her hair when Mike slipped the little box out of his pocket. Kneeling down there in front of his speechless family, Mike popped the little box open, asking, "baby, will you marry me?" Lucy was silent a moment, her face red, and her eyes darting back and forth. For a moment, he was afraid she'd say no. Then, just when he figured he'd start turning blue, the pretty blonde jumped into the air and squealed, "_yes_! Oh, yes!" For a long minute or so, Lucy bounced up and down, shouting, "yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" It was the silliest thing he'd ever seen in his life, and he absolutely adored her for it.

When his beautiful bride had calmed down, Mike was finally able to slip the ring on her finger. Getting to his feet again, Mike gathered his fiancé in with his right arm and held her tight. She was crying all over him, and she wasn't the only one. Val was simultaneously crying and elbowing her boyfriend, and Silvia was in full-fledged meltdown, blubbering into a handkerchief. The only sour face there was Mike's brother. While Mike and Lucy kissed, Bill Jr. took a swig from his glass of whiskey.

Rabbi Paul Moskiewicz congratulated the young couple. Shaking Mike's hand, he offered, "you'd be welcome to have the ceremony in the temple, Michael. We'd be delighted..." At Mike's nervous look, Aunt Edith reminded him, "you are half-Jew, Mikey..." Turning to Lucy, Rabbi Paul asked, "what denomination are you, Lucille?" Blushing, Lucy answered, "agnostic..." It was clear from his expression that the rabbi didn't approve. His son, Steve, intervened, announcing, "agnostic is not _atheist_, dad. Lucy just hasn't chosen a way to talk to God. Let her be..." "Alright, alright, Steve," said the older man. "But you're welcome with us, young lady."

Lucy thanked them both. Then Mike took her hand and led her out on the back porch. "Sorry about that," he offered. Lucy twined her fingers in his and answered, "I'm flattered that everybody wants to include me." There was an undercurrent of fear in Copper Springs and had been since before Lucy was born. Her friends and neighbors had always feared discovery, in spite of living in one of the most accepting of countries on Earth. Half the men in town had hidden out in Canada during the Vietnam war in fear not of the war, but of being injured and found out.

When she yawned, he asked, "how you holding up, babe?" "Side's still sore," she admitted, and she was exhausted. She was really looking forward to bedding down. Slipping his arms around her, Mike whispered, "hang in there, baby. Ma'll start kicking 'em out soon." "How are you doing on the couch," asked Lucy? She didn't like having him on the couch while she was in his bed. Smiling, he reminded her, "honey, I didn't get beat up yesterday..." "Hahaha *Snort*," laughed Lucy! He loved that laugh.

True to form, Silvia began making noises about cleaning up and getting together again later. It didn't take much prodding for most to get it. In dribs and drabs people slipped out to their cars and got on the road home. The last sticky wicket was Mike's aunt Fran, who's stubborn refusal to take a hint almost had Silvia screaming at her. A timely bout of yawning from Lucy finally convinced her to call it a night.

When the two lovers rose early the following morning, Lucy was feeling much better, and she was able to wash and dress herself without help. Jumping into Helen's beater van, the two drove down to the old precinct house to get to work. Mike even swung past his favorite coffee-shop for a couple of cups of java on the way. Sipping hot coffee and smiling, the two went up into the old precinct house to find it a hive of activity.

"Weeeelll," announced Helen. "You two look happy." Nodding at Lucy, Molly opined, "they should be. I guess we should expect invitations..." Giving them that beautiful, sunny smile and blushing to her hair, Lucy nodded. Helen grimaced a moment, and Lucy knew she was thinking about Manny. Shaking that off, Helen reached out and hugged her, saying, "congratulations." She even kissed Lucy on the cheek for good measure. Mike went into the captain's office to get to work, while Lucy checked in with her friends to see how things were progressing.

Towards mid-morning, the sound of the door opening announced the return of the NYPD's contribution to their effort. Moments later, four figures reached the top of the stairs. All four had come dressed for plain-clothes work, and they were all a bit anxious. The old precinct had changed quite a bit since Mike's hand-picked squad had last seen it. There were brand new doors. The place was cleaned up. Brand new furniture filled the squad room.

And there was a pack of newcomers.

For Tim Diggler, it was a bit of an awakening. Half the _people_ in that room were aliens, and they came in half a dozen variations. Rubbing elbows with them were a pack of humans that wouldn't have looked out of place in any neighborhood in the Big Apple. "Not in Kansas anymore," mumbled the big man. "But who's Toto," asked Reese? Nick waded right in. He'd been here when the newcomers first arrived. Walking up to the pretty blonde in the high-tech jumpsuit, he greeted her with, "morning, Molly." "Nick," replied Molly. Nick made the introductions, "fellas, this is Molly Gunther. She runs their tactical team. Molly, these are Tim, Reese, and Joe." "Mornin'," responded Molly.

Mike came out of his office then, announcing, "morning briefing in ten." The four officers turned for the squad room. Lucy intercepted them. "First things first," said the pretty alien girl. She had a pair of diminutive aliens with her. One held an object rather like a camcorder. The other held a device like a rivet gun. "It's a precaution," announced Mike. "All the Plumbers have implanted chips containing their identifying information. We've been implanting similar tech in every BPD police officer." Warily, Joe asked, "why?"

As he scanned one of the humans, Blukic announced, "so the Lenopan have no reason to replace you. The one called 'Tim' is clean..." "Lenopan," asked Reese? As if in answer, Lucy grabbed Reese's hand and changed herself into an identical copy. The NYC cop jumped back in startlement. All four cops were staring with slack jaws. _Mike's girl is an _alien_,_ thought Nick! In a perfect rendition of Reese's voice, Lucy explained, "they only need to touch you to get your DNA. The chips tell us that you're you, and they fry themselves if you become deceased..." As she transformed back to the pretty face they remembered, the alien woman said, "everybody in this room has been chipped. Until the NYPD can put together a program to chip all their officers, trust no-one."

Nick asked the obvious, "how do we check the chips?" Fergi replied, "give me your badge, please..." Reluctantly, Nick turned over his shield. The little alien put the badge into a machine. As the four cops looked on, the machine welded a tiny device into the back of his badge. "Your badge will vibrate in the presence of someone who has been chipped," said Fergi. "Simply tap the surface to shut off the alert." She handed the badge back to Nick.

Slipping his shield back in his wallet, Nick stepped forward to be chipped. Tim went next, and then Joe. Reese, who was still a little ambivalent about all of this, had to be prodded. In the end, it was the feeling that she was already a little pregnant with this that decided her. As Driba applied the injector to her arm, a voice at the bottom of the stairs announced, "can I come in?" Lucy turned to find the young patrolman who's life she'd saved waiting down there. "Sure," said Lucy. "Come on up."

The young man climbed the stairs in just three strides. Giving Lucy a sheepish smile, he said, "I... uh... Well, I heard that you guys were putting together a unit. I want in. I want to help." "How old are you, kid," asked Tim? "Twenty," said the young man. He wasn't old enough to drink. He wasn't even old enough to take his service-pistol home. "Look," said the young man. "Ray was my friend. I... His old lady and kids... they got nobody. I want to see those fuckers pay for what they did to him." "Ok," said Lucy. "Give Fergi your badge and get scanned."

Minutes later, the entire team filed into the old conference room to hear what Mike had to say. Tim and Joe both whistled at all the technology that had been crowded in there. Taking seats near the front, they settled in for what was sure to be an interesting show. "Alright, everybody," announced Mike. "Let's get started. We got a lot to get done today and little time to do it." Pressing a button on the table in front of him, he activated a hologram.

"As you've all seen on the tube, there was an incident on Saturday, in which a patrolman lost his life," said Mike. "Three extra-terrestrials involved in a narcotics-smuggling and distro operation murdered Patrolman Ray Fuentes during a surveillance operation." Reese cringed at the sight of the badly mutilated body. "That's what we're up against," said Mike. "These guys are packing firepower beyond anything even the US military can come up with. Our current vests are useless." Reese's queasy feeling grew. Tim asked the obvious, "what do we do, then?" "There's more, Tim," sighed Mike. "I'm just getting started."

Tim goggled. There was _more_?! What could be worse than facing down kevlar-shredding ray-guns? Mike dropped the other shoe, announcing what the young patrolman already knew. "The assailants were wearing standard Incursean combat-uniforms–designed to stand up to the same punishment they dish out," explained Mike. "They're immune to penetration from our standard 9mm pistols..." "What about +P+ ammo," asked Nick? "I know it's not accepted issue, but we can go buy at a gun-store ourselves."

Driba announced, "Incursean uniforms are manufactured out of shear-thickening polymer fabric. The impact of blunt force is absorbed in temporarily converting the fabric from a semi-fluid state to a solid and then dissipated as heat." Which made no sense at all to anyone other than Blukic and Fergi. "In any event, your crude projectile weapon will not serve to penetrate Incursean body-armor," said Driba. "'zat a fact," grumbled Nick. "It is, Officer," rumbled Blukic.

"The Department of Justice along with the DoD is working on something suitable to handle the problem," said Mike, "but at the moment, the best we can do is aim for the eyes or the extremities. Since the job of the local officers is to investigate and arrest, this shouldn't be a problem..." "You're saying you don't want us to confront them," demanded Joe? "I'm saying I don't want you going home to Kerry in a box, Joe," replied Mike. "Nobody here is a consistent enough marksman to make that shot every time when they're _not_ under duress. We're going to treat these guys just like what they are–wanted felons with weapons and the will to use them. I think every cop here knows that you call SWAT for that." Mike nodded at Molly.

Nick knew he was right, but it still sat uneasily in his stomach to let outsiders do the heavy lifting in his town. With an unhappy sigh, he subsided. Moving on, Mike said, "we've had a little success working with the plumbers on an armor recipe that can keep you alive if you're hit once..." Holding up a tactical vest, Mike said, "we worked with the suppliers of the BPD's body armor to come up with this, and we tested it out against a captured Incursean firearm. It's lightweight ceramic. It's rigid, and it's not concealable, but it can keep you alive. We've been in talks with the guys who supply dragon-skin armor to the military on something that might have multi-hit protection, but this is what we got for now." "Better'n nothing," muttered Tim.

Setting the armor down, Mike moved on to the biggest piece of the briefing. "The man the narcs were chasing is known as Chico. Real name: Marques Flores. He used to run with the Latin Kings before he pissed off the Inca and got tagged with a TOS order. We should have found him in the East River, but somebody's been taking care of him..." "Incurseans," muttered Joe. He thought he would start to hate that name after a while.

"From what the narcs have gathered, Chico's been their go-between," explained Mike. "He arranges deals with other disaffected hoods in the Independent Pharmaceutical biz. He gets them product, they hump it on the streets, he collects the cash and floats it back up to the frogs." "What do they do with it," asked Reese? "That we don't know," replied Mike. "But I intend for us to find out. Alright, Lucy? Take over."

Mike stood aside for his lovely fiancé. She was especially pretty this morning, rocking some hip-hugging grey slacks, pumps, and a burgundy blouse she'd picked up Saturday morning. Lucy clicked the clicker, showing them a picture of an Incursean. "That's the face of the enemy," said she. "Incursean, frog, toad, all the same. They're the guys making trouble." The young patrolman put his hand up and asked, "didn't the US sign a treaty with them?" "They did," allowed Lucy. "With the _legitimate_ Incursean Empire. Empress Attea's uncle, Vanos, is attempting to stage a coup against his niece, and he needs money and guns to do it. We're up against his people."

Moving on, Lucy said, "this is a standard Incursean plasma pistol. It packs enough power to vaporize an eighth of an inch of steel on contact. Keep that in mind if you find yourself in need of hard cover. A car may or may not save your butt. Thirty shots without reloading. Approximately half a second between shots. They're slow and deliberate. You may be able to overwhelm them with massed fire. They typically don't wear helmets, so their heads are vulnerable. They're typically little shits, so they tend to stand out in a crowd, even wearing coats."

Clicking the clicker, she announced, "known weaknesses include strong allergic reactions to certain scents. Their noses are really sensitive. Pepper spray might flatten them. We don't know for sure yet, though, so I wouldn't rely on it." She moved on to the next bit of fun. "This is what my people look like in our natural state," said she. "We can alter the structure of our bodies on a cellular level to look like anybody we want. Vanos has hired Lenopan in the past to work as infiltrators and spies. I expect him to do so again. Anybody you know can be replaced. Say nothing of what you see here. Speak only to official contacts. You've been warned..."

Moving on, Lucy got into a quick discussion about Lenopan anatomy. "Any Lenopan can thin out his body tissue and compact his organs, shrinking his vitals and making a kill-shot much more difficult..." Mike added, "I personally put fifteen rounds into one o'these guys and he kept comin'..." Nick blurted, "you better not piss Lucy off, then..." Everybody had noticed the ring on Lucy's finger. The room erupted in laughter as both Lucy and Mike blushed to their hair. "That pretty much is everything we know," said Lucy. "Now we need to hear _your_ thoughts..."

Ironically it was the young patrolman who opened the discussion. "We need to go to Chico's block," said the young man. "Ray used to say that everything you want to know about some guy's on the block where they grew up." "Ray was a smart guy," opined Mike. "I tell you what, officer..." "Fascziewski," said the young man. "Tom Fascziewski." "Tom," said Mike, "I want you to go down, canvass Chico's neighborhood. Bring back everything you can..."

"Shouldn't we interview the prisoner," asked Joe? "I'll volunteer for that..." "Done," agreed Mike. "I'll go to narcotics and see what they know," said Nick. "No need to reinvent the wheel." "Giant walking frogs should attract attention," announced Reese. "Maybe we should see if there's anything on the tip line." Since she'd suggested it, Mike gave it to her. Nick asked, "what are our colleagues going to be doing?" "Good question, good question," said Mike, as he adopted a thoughtful pose. Truth be told, he and Lucy were trying to limit Plumber involvement to the job of rounding up the frogs.

As he thought his way through that, Nick announced, "Helen can come with me to narcotics." That surprised the little speed-freak, but she didn't say no. "I'll go with Tom," said Lucy. "Alright," said Mike. "Molly? Wanna head to Riker's?" "Might as well," said the Plumber girl. "Eventually we'll want to grab him and bring him here." "Ok, Tim," said Mike. "Looks like you and me are headed to the evidence lockup and the morgue."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

The bullets had gone straight through the target's flat, bulbous nose and right into the brain. The 9mm hollow-points had made hash of the interior of the alien's skull. It was an instant kill shot. The other frog was just as dead–from a double-tap to the heart. The coroner was stunned, and he wasn't the only one. "Glad she's on our side," said Tim, as the coroner left the room. Five shots, two dead perps, and one wounded. All in the space of a few seconds.

Mike chuckled. That was his lady. "You actually do it with her," asked Tim? Mike pretended like he didn't hear the question. "Just curious, man," rumbled Tim. As he watched, his friend rolled up the dead frog's sleeve, revealing a series of strange characters tattooed there in red ink. Drawing a scanner from his pocket, he plugged in his own comlink, and scanned the code. The dead man's name, rank, and ID number flashed up along with a warning in Incursean. Mike had been learning to read the language. "This guy was once a cop," muttered Mike. He'd gone dirty. Tim grimaced. Now he was bringing _them_ grief.

"Ex-commando," said Mike. "Drummed out for war crimes..." "How bad do you have to be to get drummed out of their army for war crimes," asked Tim? Mike chuckled. Tim frowned at the sight of the little device in Mike's hand. "Sooo," said Tim. "How come you get to play with all the fancy toys." Absently, Mike replied, "trust..." He'd earned the Plumbers' trust over the last year or so. They knew he wasn't going to take what they'd given him and hand it off to somebody else. More to the point, their Internal Affairs people had approved the deal.

Moving on to the next frog, Mike scanned his tattoo and took down his particulars. Then, he forwarded that on to the Incursean embassy so they could come collect the corpses. Done with the dead, it was time to move on to the issue of the stuff they'd had in their pockets. The two cops headed back to the rickety Chevy Astro Helen had arrived in. Settling into the passenger seat, Tim said, "look, man! I gotta know... Is it good?" Mike's face went hot. Mildly, he answered, "yeah, Tim. Satisfied?"

No. He wasn't. "So she can look like anybody she wants," said the big man. "You ever do the fantasy thing... I mean... Pick up a Maxim and say, 'hey, honey, how 'bout that one?'" "Nope," replied Mike. Tim wasn't sure he believed that. Mike had the perfect solution to the problem plaguing mankind for centuries. He didn't have to cheat to try something new.

"I'd never do that to her, Tim," said Mike, as they drove out of the parking lot. "Lucy spends days and sometimes _weeks_ being somebody else. The last thing she needs after she gets home is a husband who asks her to be somebody else too." And though he knew she would have done it for him–she'd done it before for a previous boyfriend–Mike had resolved never ever to do that to her. She deserved better.

It was clearly time to change the subject, and Tim moved on. Looking around him, he announced, "I expected a flying car..." "Tim, my friend," laughed Mike, "a flying car attracts the eye, and they don't like the attention." But, just for the yucks, he reached under the dash, tapped the control, and transformed Helen's beater-van into a flying spaceship, lifting off into the sky for the short flight across town to the evidence lockup.

Elsewhere, Nick Luchini walked into the Narcotics Division with Helen Wheels at his side to the glorious shock of every face there. With her blue skin, tail, and strange chicken-feet, Helen drew the eye like a supermodel in a room full of fat girls. Nick walked straight up to Inspector Garvey's office, bypassing the secretary, and knocked on the door.

Harry Garvey's eyes bugged out at the sight of Helen coming through the door, and he almost reached for his sidearm. "Morning, Inspector," said Nick. "I'm Nick Luchini. We spoke earlier..." "I didn't expect you so soon." It was a hell of a drive from Flushing to his office. Nick shrugged that off with, "my friend here's in a hurry. Need to see the case files from the frog investigation. "Sure, kid, sure," said Garvey. He summoned his deputy and dropped the job on him.

"I see you found a way to get into narcotics after all," rumbled the portly policeman as he led them over to the locked room where they kept their most sensitive files. Nick smiled and chuckled. "For the moment," he said. "They asked for me by name. Didn't think I had that kind of reputation." The old man said, "well don't let it go to your head, kid. These people won't be here forever." To Helen, it sounded vaguely threatening.

The Deputy Inspector's authority got them into the secure files, and he left them there to their work with one last admonishment for Nick not to let this go to his head. "He seemed nice," rumbled Helen. "Yeah," chuckled Nick. "He's one of my number one fans." As they dug into the files, she asked, "what's the story?" "I've been trying to get off the beat for three years," replied Nick. Unfortunately he didn't have the seniority. No matter how many times he tested for sargent, he was not going to get it. Nor had his efforts to be sent to Narcotics born any fruit. He'd as much as been told that he needed to pay his dues, and, until he did, he was going nowhere.

Helen said, "that's the great thing about being a Plumber. More work and responsibility than you could possibly handle. And, if by some miracle, you survive, they throw some more on the pile." She sounded astonishingly cheerful this morning. "You're in a good mood," said he. "Got a good night's sleep," said Helen. She usually self-corrected after a good night's sleep. There was little point in spending time on problems. "Healthy habit to have," said Nick.

The two dug into the files before them with gusto, starting with the earliest information and working their way slowly forward, taking notes as they did–Nick in his trusty notepad and Helen in a computerized gadget she pulled out from a pocket of her suit. As they worked, he found himself studying her. She was surprisingly familiar in spite of the strangeness of her appearance. Without the tail, he thought she'd have had a really nice butt.

Even with the tail, she had a nice butt.

"You looking at my ass again," she asked, as she turned around from reaching up for another box of documents? Laughing, Nick replied, "wondering how you sit down without that thing getting in the way." Hips swaying saucily as she walked back to the table, Helen swished that tail, announcing, "it's not in the way. It's one of my best assets." Nick howled laughter. He believed her.

More seriously, she said, "I'm not sure how much of this we can trust. We still don't know if there are infiltrators. Some of these men have been inside these dope houses without backup. They could easily have been replaced." Nick wondered about that too. He wasn't sure if they dared go through the squad bay and start scanning random cops to look for mud-people. "Don't use that term around Lucy," advised Helen. "She gets very offended." "Roger," said Nick. "Thanks." He didn't really want to step on his own dick with her. Besides being Mike's friend, Nick actually respected her. She was one helluva cop.

Setting down the folder in his hand, he said, "we need to think of something. We'll never know how much of this we can trust if we don't." "What do you suggest," replied Helen. "A trap," replied Nick. "There's five men who were in this investigation that might have been compromised. We bait a trap by dropping information to those five and see if any turn on us."

Frowning, Helen opined, "we could just as easily haul them in and scan them..." "But that assumes it's actually them," replied Nick. "The frogs could have followed them home and replaced their wives. They could have snatched their kids. They could have gotten to one of their informants. If we use a leak, that might get us the whole chain."

Helen's face turned thoughtful as she pondered that. She wasn't really a _deep_ thinker, and she knew that she sometimes rushed into things without really looking at all the angles. "I think you have a point," she said. "Even if it is them, if we hauled them in, they could very easily get wind of what we're doing and run. We don't get our infiltrator then. Just one of his disguises." "I better write that down," said Nick. "You actually thing I'm right." Helen smirked, "you're pretty bright for a human." "Thanks," chuckled Nick. With that decision fresh in mind, Nick decided that they really ought to just cart this whole pile off to peruse later.

With Helen at his side, he went back to the Deputy Inspector's office and informed the man of their decision. The older man's face went livid, and his fists clenched so hard the knuckles went white. Just as quickly, he calmed down. "Ok, kid," said the Deputy Inspector. "We'll play your way..." But it was clear to Helen he was saving that request up as one more reason to be rid of them.

Meanwhile, out in the East River, Molly was getting a tour of the Big Apple's very own private prison. "Not another town in America with its own penitentiary," said Joe Savage as they stepped onto the island. Every face they encountered stared at Molly in her shiny red protosuit, not least of which was the deputy warden. "You must be the Plumber," announced Deputy Warden Crane. "I am," replied Molly. "We've got the Incursean in North Infirmary. I'll need you to leave any weapons at the entry."

Unclipping the proto-tool from her shoulder, Molly said, "let's get started." The warden handed the strange device to one of the guards. Then he motioned for them to hop into his golf-cart. "He's alive," declared the warden. "We feed him based on recommendations from their Consulate, and one of 'em's been over checking on him..." That had been a chore by itself. The Incursean doctor had suggested they let the prisoner die since he would likely be tortured to death for treason anyway. They had their own people looking after him now, but Crane wanted to vote him off the Island. "Little bastard gives me the creeps," declared the warden.

"We're not exactly fans either," quipped Molly, "but we'll take him off your hands as soon as we're able." She didn't really like frogs and hadn't since the invasion. She was far from thrilled to see them here on a permanent basis. The warden drove them up to the entry of the facility and left them in the hands of one of his officers. As the warden drove off, the officer introduced himself. Molly's eyes were on the terrain. She felt a growing unease about the layout of the prison. She'd have liked to roll the proto-truk as close as she could to the door of the cellhouse.

The duo went inside and followed the corrections officer to the interview room. Molly told Joe, "I'll translate. I'm sure this guy has a translator embedded next to his ear. Just about every race in the galaxy has them..." "...but he's probably going to play 'no-speak the English'," grumped Joe. Muttering curses under his breath, Joe motioned for the corrections officer to go get the perp. While they waited, Joe asked the obvious, "you got one of those gadgets?" "Yup," replied Molly. She pointed to a spot just behind her right ear. "It plugs into the auditory nerve, and injects signals for the language of choice," explained the Plumber. "Snazzy," rumbled the New York cop.

Silence reigned, and he realized he didn't know anything about his _partner_. "So how long you been doing this," he asked? "Six years," replied Molly. Joe grimaced. She was younger than he was! Guessing where his mind was going, Molly said, "Earth's a backwater, and they need everybody they can get." Before he could ask any more questions, the door opened, and two corrections officers came in, leading their frog, who was hobbling along on a cane. He was a bit pallid, their friend, and the orange jumpsuit wasn't helping that at all.

"Afternoon," announced Joe. "I'm Officer Savage. This is Officer Gunther. We'd like to ask you some questions." The frog croaked something rough that sounded vaguely threatening. Molly translated the officer's words for their new friend. The ugly creature grinned a big, froggy grin that seemed more threatening than his words. _In for a dime,_ thought Joe. "We understand that you're part of an organization bringing narcotics into the city of New York," declared the cop. "We'd like to ask you about this organization, and we're prepared to offer you political asylum and some level of clemency for evidence against the other members of the conspiracy."

The frog croaked some threatening words, and Molly gave him the rough translation, "you mud-dwellers are nothing to us! When Emperor Vanos is restored to the throne, he will reduce this place to cinders and raise the war-standard of the Deathless Incursean Empire over the ashes." "Nice," muttered Joe. Leaning forward, Joe reminded the ugly toad, "well, he ain't an emperor now, is he? Last I seen, he was on the run, and his wife's doing time in the California pen. Now, we can extradite your ass to the _other_ Incursean Empire _tomorrow_. You know? The one that wants t'put your ass in a torture chamber? I hear that little girl likes the sound of screamin' traitors. Probably take you as a surrogate f'er her uncle."

The frog seemed to think about that for a moment. "The Plumbers would never allow this," rumbled the frog. Joe turned and glanced at Molly. The alien cop's face was unreadable. She had the poker-face of a veteran detective. Turning back to the prisoner, he said, "you're in New York City, my friend. In the Empire State. We're the most powerful of the fifty United States, and the governor of New York's got the President on speed-dial. Right now you're not in a Plumber prison. You're in _our_ prison, and we can do whatever the fuck we want with you. In other words, I'd think about that."

Rising, he said, "Officer? Join me in the hall." Molly rose and followed him out, just like he was in charge of this. It was an award-worthy performance. Locking the door behind them, he turned to her and asked, "you read anything from him?" "I think you did rattle him with that last comment," replied Molly. "They don't know the laws or the governments here, but he knows he doesn't want to fall into the hands of Attea's forces."

"Let's work him a bit," said Joe. "Let him stew..." Nodding, Molly said, "we still need to make the arrangements to get the prototruk in here and pick him up." Turning to the guards, Joe said, "leave him there. We'll be back." And the two set out for the administration building to file some paperwork.

Further up the East River in the Bronx, Tom Fascziewski and his lovely companion had been confronting the legendary code of silence that protected organized crime in the Big Apple. Nobody wanted to talk. Not the people on the streets, not the neighbors, and not even Chico's family. In spite of being worried about him, his own grandmother refused to speak up. Lucy guessed the Latin Queens tattoo she'd spotted on the old hag's back had something to do with that.

Walking down from the porch, Tom wore the look of a _very_ discouraged man. "Don't sweat it, Tom," advised Lucy. "We did all we could. We'll just have to try something else." Half-heartedly Tom nodded. The two stepped off the stairs and turned for Tom's car, which sat up the street. As they walked up the street, his keen eyes picked out trouble in the form of a small army of young men headed up the street in their direction. "Think maybe we stirred something up," murmured Tom. While he had first-hand experience that Lucy was good in a fight, he found himself a little worried about the odds here. There were a lot of them. They were cops, but gang-bangers didn't always respect that.

"Afternoon, fellas," said Tom as the swarm of men approached. He had his hands out as he tried to defuse the situation. Lucy had her hands down the pockets of her coat, touching her sidearm. Every man there had either a yellow bandana tucked into his waistband or a yellow-and black cap, or some other bit of gang advertising, and there was a dozen of them. "You need t'come wit us," said the oldest of the group. Lucy piped up with, "you _do_ realize we're cops, right?"

"Yeah," replied the gang-banger. "You should know I'm Corona of the Maya Tribe." Tom's face went very pale, telling Lucy that this man was very important in the gang scene. "We'll play along, Tom," said Lucy. The NYPD cop grimly nodded, but he went along. Lucy was a supercop, and she had far more experience at this than he did.

The two were thoroughly searched, relieved of their weapons, and bundled into a van with blacked out windows. Lucy found herself sitting across from an anonymous thug as the van rolled through the streets of New York City. The young punk across from her was armed to the teeth, with a couple of knives, a pistol tucked down the front of his pants, and even a little revolver taped against his ankle. Lucy guessed he was a bodyguard for the Corona.

His eyes scanned her from head to toe over and over again, and she got the uncomfortable feeling that he liked what he saw. She'd met a couple of men like that in Bellwood, and she'd had to break one man's arm when his interest got a little too personal. She'd scared the hell out of him, and she thought he might still be running. _Hopefully it doesn't come to that,_ thought Lucy. While she thought she'd be alright, she wasn't so sure about Tom.

The darkened van drove for more than an hour, and Tom's fear and apprehension grew, as he realized that they could be going just about anywhere. Indeed, they had no way of really knowing whether or not these men were really Latin Kings or assassins sent by the Frogs to whack them for asking too many questions. His eyes kept glancing to Lucy's face. She had the worst poker-face he'd seen in his life. Instead of being terrified, she looked like she was going shopping! He wasn't sure he could manage being a detective and doing this kind of thing every day.

Finally, after an hour of driving, the van rolled to a stop. Almost as soon as it had stopped, the side doors were opened, and they were rushed outside, finding themselves in a bombed-out old warehouse. It could have been any number of abandoned buildings in the Big Apple. Industry consolidation and real-estate churn ensured a steady-supply of buildings like this. Looking around her, Lucy took note of the exits, finding that most if not all were guarded or blocked.

Their host led them upstairs to the warehouse's office, and Tom's terror grew. Sensing his fear, Lucy opined, "if they wanted us dead, Tom, they could have whacked us the minute we were inside the building. They want us to meet somebody." Indeed, as they walked into the room beyond the office door, they found the man himself, King Tubby, Inca of the Latin Kings.

Rico 'Tubby' Fernandez was a big, big man, all of six-foot six, and looking like a wall of meat. He was hardly the fat man his nickname suggested. In point of fact, Lucy found him kind of hot. War-scars scattered across his body told her he was worn into the gang-banger's life-style, but his eyes held a malevolent cunning that went far beyond the impotent little toadies that had picked them up. He was the heart and the soul of the gang, and everyone in that room knew it.

The nasty little bodyguard put Lucy's badge and side-arm on the table alongside Tom's. "Sig-Sauer," commented Lucy? Sheepishly, Tom replied, "wanted t'be more accurate..." "Lose the twelve-pound trigger," said Lucy. Turning to their host, Lucy sweetly asked, "so what brings us here?" King Tubby's eyes narrowed on her. She was like some girl from a TV show–too pretty to be a detective. "You been lookin' for Chico," announced Tubby. "So have you, I'm told," retorted Lucy. The Inca's face went hot.

"I hear New York's finest are interested in talking frogs," said Tubby. "Maybe," replied Lucy. "You know where to find some?" "I might," rumbled Tubby. Leaning forward, the Inca declared, "we done our best to cooperate with you guys. When King Blood and my cousin got busted, we cut down on the killings, and we negotiated with our enemies." Lucy gave him that. She still didn't like him as a person, but she gave him that. Truth be told, she understood him better than he realized. Her people were also descended from undocumented immigrants, and many of them had turned to crime out of anger and feelings of isolation.

"Chico changed things on the ground," said Tubby. "He's turned hell loose on the street, and the body-count's only going up..." Tom interrupted with, "get to the point. Do you got something, or do ya just wanna flap your gums?" King Tubby glanced at the woman, who seemed to be lead detective. With a shrug and a smirk, Lucy said, "what he said..." The Inca gave vent to a heavy sigh. It was clear to Lucy this was killing him. Cooperation with the police was against everything he stood for.

Finally, when Tom was considering leaving, the Inca said, "the stuff's being shipped in from somewhere in the meadowlands. There's a laundry-truck goes out every Saturday night and returns every Sunday morning. They hit town in the middle of shift-change..." Now they were getting somewhere. Lucy sat back in her chair and asked, "where in the meadowlands?" "Don't know," replied the Inca. "They made my guys and two of your spacemen tried to whack them..." Only one man made it back. "I do know they bring the product into an old laundry on 82nd and Baxter in Queens. We think they cut it there and distribute it."

It was good information, and Lucy made mental note of that. "Where's Chico," demanded Tom?! "How should we know," retorted King Tubby?! "He was your boy," growled the young cop! Lucy shushed him. Calmly, she asked, "do we have numbers? Are there any other sites that you've seen?" "That's all we know," admitted King Tubby. After a long pause, he added, "the Bloods might have more..." It was a helluva admission that he was talking to them. "Names," said Lucy. "I need names." "I don't have names," admitted King Tubby, "but I have a phone number..." Lucy was happy to take that too, and then it was time to go.

The two cops were put back in the van for the long trip back across town to Chico's old neighborhood. Nobody said anything. Tom was stewing. He wanted Chico. The Kings were scared and jumpy. Lucy played it cool, even bantering with the thug that kept trying to x-ray her clothes with his eyes. He was about her age and worn into the thug-life, a life he would have been happy to teach her about. Lucy just smiled sweetly as if she didn't hear that, and kept talking about the weather in Bellwood. When they got dropped off, she was relieved.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Mike Stack was in a very good mood when they walked into the beat-down old station-house. Taking a package out from under his arm, he walked up to Fergi, the little Galvan female, and set it down before her. "Officer," chirped the tiny alien. "Hey," said Mike. "Got somethin' for ya." Opening the box, he took out three heavily modified iPhones. "Earth technology," murmured Fergi. "It _was_," agreed Mike. "Frogs had 'em in their pockets." Fergi's bulbous eyes shot up to his. "Modified," she chirped. "We think so," agreed Mike. "There's been a lot of rogue transmitters on various networks in town. Verizon. ATT. Sprint. They're all reporting somebody using bandwidth, but they can't track the devices." "On it," said Fergi, as she accepted his gift.

Moving on, Mike headed over to the windows, where Helen, Molly, and Nick had piles of paper spread out on a couple of old desks. "What we got," he asked? "Case files," replied Nick. "Ballantyne didn't want to give 'em up. I told 'em he should talk to the Commissioner." "Anything useful," asked Mike? "It's worse than we thought," replied Helen. "The MS13 gang has been decimated. They went toe-to-toe with the frog's proxies and got wiped out. They're on the run, and the frogs have their territory." That was bad news. The Incurseans had a large swath of the Big Apple under their control. "Any _good_ news," asked Mike? "Got the frog to talk," replied Molly. "Joe's typing it up." It was good news all around. "Where's Lucy and Tom," asked Mike?

"Nobody's seen them," answered Helen. "We were thinking about going down to that street where they were canvassing, but we were waiting for you to get back." That made Mike very nervous. It was highly likely that there were rogue sludge-puppies here in town. That made wandering off a very risky proposition, and Mike knew Lucy had a lot of trouble knowing when to hold fire on sticking her nose into something. "Alright," said Mike. "Let's get together a team..."

Before they could even start, the sound of the door closing got everyone's attention. Moments later, Lucy and Tom came strolling up the stairs, chatting away. Tom had been in a rotten mood since they got back to his car, feeling like he'd been useless. He'd been amazed by how smooth Lucy was. "I've been at it four years, Tom," she reminded him. "Longer than that if you consider the double life I was born into. You've been at it a _day_. Besides, I was about ready to belt him too." The posturing was _annoying_.

Lucy was happy to see the gang were all present. At the sight of the two of them, the others gathered around, and Lucy got caught up on what they had seen. It had been a long but _productive_ day. Helen and Nick had a treasure-trove of information from the previous investigation, Mike and Tim had a pile of electronics taken off the three frogs who'd been in the shootout, and Molly and Joe had cracked the surviving frog on Rikers with promises of an extended stay in a nice Plumber jail instead of extradition to Incursean space. "Not bad," opined Lucy with a grin that wanted to grate on Mike's nerves. He had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't really going to like what she had to say.

His fiancé didn't disappoint, as she laid out what had gone down on Chico's block. Jaws dropped and tongues clucked as Lucy explained how they'd gotten picked up by the Latin Kings and taken to see the Inca. When she told them about getting a line on the whereabouts of the leader of the Bloods and a status report of what was going on in the Big Apple's seedy underbelly, the whole room erupted. Finishing up, Lucy announced, "MS-13 isn't down and out yet, but they're on the ropes. The Inca's been in talks with them too."

News of the drop site for the drugs had everyone excited, and Nick wanted to go run that to ground immediately. Joe wanted to go rounding up the leaders of the local street gangs. In his mind, it was a chance to take care of a problem that had plagued the Big Apple since before he was born. Mike's mind was on something else. As soon as Lucy finished that hair-raising story, Mike jabbed a finger at her and growled, "Officer Mann! My office! _Now_!" And just like that, he went storming across the room to his office. Face red, the alien girl slunk across the room after him and shut the door.

"What's _he_ mad about," asked Joe? "_Hello_," said Reese! "They're _married_! Wouldn't _you_ get pissed if Kerry jumped in a van with a bunch of Latin Kings?" Joe retorted, "but she's an _alien_." "We bleed too," muttered Helen as she turned away, bound for the coffee-maker. Nick announced, "I've got to go see somebody. I'll be back..."

Inside Mike's office, the BPD cop was reading his counterpart and future wife the riot act. He made it clear in no uncertain terms exactly what he thought of her actions, and he threatened to have her kicked off the case. Angry herself, Lucy shouted, "you can't do that!" "_Who_ did the old man put in charge, Officer Mann," growled Mike? Face hot, Lucy retorted, "I was doing my _job_, Mike! I thought you'd understand!" She was trying to take this into the personal realm. Mike headed her off at the pass.

"So your job is to jeopardize the investigation by risking loss of our most vital asset," asked Mike? "Your job is to risk the life of an impressionable young officer–who _worships_ the hero-cop that saved his _ass_ by the way?" Lucy glanced away as Mike reminded her of all the ways her little adventure could have gone wrong from infiltrators within the Inca's circle to her getting shot with her own sidearm. It was a dressing down worthy of the Magister. Mike knew just where to hit her, leaving her with nothing to say in response. "It will not happen again, Officer," said Mike. "Dismissed." Face burning, Lucy slunk out of there.

The trip home from the station was silent as a tomb with the only sound to be heard the crunching of the tires on fresh snow. Mike was still angry that Lucy had risked her life that way on a reckless whim, and Lucy was embarrassed and mad as hell that he'd ripped her a new one in front of the world plus dog. Neither would look at the other, and their minds were going in slow circles as the rage built in Mike and desperation built in Lucy. She was mad at him for yelling at her, embarrassed because she knew he was right, and she didn't know how to get out of this jam.

Reaching Silvia's home did little to help. Mike's brother was there with his nasty insinuations, and Mike's rage was magnified when his mother escorted Lucy to her bedroom to check the nasty bruise under Lucy's arm–reminding both of them of how they'd gotten into this in the first place. They were still not speaking when Valerie got home, and their presence cast a pall on dinner.

"Ok," demanded Val, "what gives?! Last night you two couldn't keep your hands off each other. Now you won't talk! What the fuck, over?" In clipped tones, Mike muttered, "_somebody_ got into a van with a half-dozen Latin Kings this afternoon. _Somebody_ didn't call for backup and didn't let us know where she was or where she was going..." "That's it," growled Bill Jr.? "She's an _alien_, for chrissake! So what?!" And that started the shouting.

On one hand, Silvia and Val jointly began chastising Lucy for doing something stupid. On the other, Mike very nearly came across the table at his brother. That got Silvia down on Jr. too. At the height of the shouting match, Lucy got up and went into the living room. Fight forgotten, Mike rushed after her, finding her in the process of putting on her coat. Terror filled his heart as he caught her shoulders and spun her around. He didn't want this to tear them apart. He was angry, but he didn't want her to go!

"I'm sorry," sobbed Lucy! "I'm sorry for being a reckless idiot!" She turned on the water, and there was no way he was going to resist that. Mike wrapped his arms around his beautiful bride and hugged her tight. Soon he was crying too. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm sorry I raised my voice, baby," said he. Laughing, Lucy admitted, "Magister Tennyson yells at me too." Mike replied, "I know. Ben told me about it." "That little...," growled Lucy! She'd wondered where Mike heard all that stuff! "No more adventures," whispered Mike. Nodding and sniffling, Lucy agreed, "no more adventures."

Bill Jr. seemed almost disappointed when the two returned to the table holding hands. Nonetheless, at his mother's stern and disapproving glare–with a kick from Val to seal the deal–the older man apologized to Lucy for being insensitive. Lucy graciously accepted his apology, and Silvia moved on, announcing, "who's for dessert?"

Later, while they sat at the table munching on chocolate cake–Lucy's favorite–the two talked about wedding plans. Sitting in the recliner watching TV and swilling beer, Bill Jr. did his best to ignore them. Mike, in spite of being a little bit out of his depth, did his best to listen and show interest in all the things that Lucy wanted to do. She wanted to give the big temple wedding a shot. In her mind, being agnostic, she had options, and it would make her mother-in-law so happy. Mike had to remind her that if they went down that road, certain things might be expected of them. He wasn't sure he was ready to convert.

Silvia popped in and out, bringing loads of trinkets and knick-knacks that she wanted to share with them. She'd fallen in love with Lucy, and she was excited about the wedding. Val, helpful as ever, elected herself to be Maid-of-Honor. She had ideas of her own about the wedding dress. Since Lucy was so busty and pretty, she wanted to do a sexy modern dress with lots of cleavage. "She'll fall out, Val," retorted Silvia. "Besides, a girl doesn't need to look like a piece of meat on her wedding day. She's already got the man."

As Silvia's old grandfather clock chimed ten o'clock, Mike kicked his brother out of the living room, intending to go to bed. Lucy followed him into the living room and suggested that they just share his bed, but Mike refused, reminding her, "you're still pretty dinged up, honey. See you in the morning." Val almost laughed at him. He was turning down a chance for some hot make-up sex. He was right, though, and Lucy knew it. Kissing her fiancé, a disappointed Lucy headed for his room to curl up by herself.

Morning found Lucy stretching and exercising in a vain attempt to prove she was just fine. Mostly she managed to prove Mike was right. She'd have been screaming in pain instead of excitement. Coming out of the bedroom in a pair of shorts and an old tee-shirt, she sat down on the couch next to her man and ran her fingers along his back. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she sighed. "I... I don't think sometimes..." Mike cracked his eyes open and smiled up at her. "Enough apologies, baby," said he. "It's alright. I'm... I gotta' get used to this. You're a cop too, and sometimes a cop's got to take a chance or two to break the case." Nodding, Lucy admitted, "I... I can admit that I take it too far. We should have called." Turning to look at him, she said, "I love you, Mike Stack. Thanks for taking care of me."

Bill Jr. came into the dining room looking disgusted just at the sight of them. He was already dressed in his uniform, and he passed them carrying a piece of toast and looking like he couldn't stand them a moment longer. "Sorry about that, honey," sighed Mike. "I don't know why he's acting like this." Lucy giggled, "as long as he doesn't try to kill me like my cousin's in-laws, I'm fine..." Mike laughed in remembrance. She'd told him that story. Crawling out from under the covers, Mike started rolling up his bedroll. They had work to do.

Silvia sent the two lovebirds on their way with a lunchbox full of food. Cradling the lunchbox, Lucy said, "I made things personal yesterday. Thanks for keeping it professional..." Mike answered that with, "thanks for running down that lead, honey. Now I think we're actually in the game." He paused a moment, then added, "that's how mom and dad used to fight. Real personal. Attacking each other. I... don't want us to get like that. I don't want to lose you." Leaning over, Lucy kissed his cheek. Then, as they pulled into the station-house's parking lot, she said, "we should get the rental car back soon." It was money out of their pockets when they were officially on the clock. "So much for vacation," laughed Mike.

Helen was waiting on them when they came in. Without preamble, she announced, "infiltrators in the NYPD are confirmed." Mike didn't waste time being shocked or upset. He wanted details. "I made it through the entire case-log," said their little speed-demon. "I started finding inconsistencies. When it was between different guys, I thought, 'no biggie'. When I started seeing them between entries by the same guy, I got suspicious..." She'd had Fergi test the documents. Handing Mike her report, she gave the punchline, "Lenopan DNA." Mike grimaced. Things were heating up fast.

Fergi had news of her own. "The three iPhones have been substantially altered," explained the Galvan. "The Incurseans have hacked the operating system, enabling the device to spoof your primitive wireless networks. They transmit an encrypted data-packet on your frequencies, enabling them to have secure communications that are immune to tracing by standard Plumber tech." Lucy asked, "can we crack it?" "It is immune to _Plumber_ technology," smirked the Galvan. "Stay on it," said Mike. "Lucy? My office. We need to write up that report." They had distinguished visitors coming.

Towards mid-morning, Molly's tactical team went out with one of the Plumbers' nondescript vans, driving down to Police Headquarters in Manhattan. There they pulled into the underground loading-dock to collect the Plumbers' distinguished guests. Returning to Flushing, the van pulled into the dock, and the two drivers closed the rollaway doors on any curious onlookers outside before heading to the back.

Mike Stack's smiling face was waiting on the Mayor, Commissioner, Inspector Graves, and the head of the City Council. "Morning everybody," Mike greeted them. "Welcome to my place." Two Plumbers were on hand to scan the three men and one woman before they were escorted up the stairs to the station's main floor. The two ranking cops whistled as they took in the changes to the old station-house. It seemed impossible, but the strangers from the west-coast had worked a miracle in just a day.

Mike led the four straight to the station's briefing room, passing through the squad room on the way. Mayor Reuben Howard stared in amazement at the sight of real, live aliens. There was more than a dozen of them, all working away like this was every day for them, which he imagined it was.

Inside the briefing room, Mike brought the four to seats at the front where his lovely bride was waiting. Lucy looked the business in a shimmery blue blouse over tan slacks today. She couldn't have looked more _normal_ if she tried, and Mike could tell the two politicians were immediately put at ease. For them, it was like having the awful power and danger of the strange alien invasion put at their disposal, and Mike knew that would make them comfortable. He imagined that the Magister _planned_ it that way.

"Thank you for coming," announced the young officer. "For those who don't know me, I'm Mike Stack, Bellwood PD, on loan to New York. This is Officer Lucille Mann, on loan from the Plumbers." Lucy gave them a winning smile. No man could resist that smile, and even the two men who _knew_ she was an alien relaxed.

Mike announced, "reason I asked you down here was to give you a progress report in a secure environment. In a bit the reasons for that will become clear..." Reaching for the clicker, Mike started up the hologram projector. "This is the guy we're up against," announced Mike, as he manipulated the hologram floating before his distinguished guests. Even for a frog, this one was ugly. He was bigger than the usual run of runts, and he was built like a wall. His ugly, bulbous face was lined with scars, making him look like he'd been through a meat-grinder.

"Name's Rillec," said Mike, "and he is or _was_ a cop. Started out as a soldier. Decorated for valor. Led his own special forces team until he went off the deep-end. Usual run of shit. Shot prisoners. Tortured people. Nobody much gave a damn until he started doing it to his own side. Found some guys that were a little too nice to their prisoners, so he turned his knife on them. Shortly after, he got the boot from the army and started over as a cop..."

Clicking the clicker, Mike brought up an abbreviated list of the frog's accomplishments along with a list of the crimes that had gotten him booted out of police work. From Inspector Graves' perspective, this guy was the worst sort–a _career_ fuck-up, who just couldn't stay on the straight and narrow. "According to this rap-sheet, he's taken bribes and dealt narcotics," said the Inspector. "Yes, sir," agreed Mike. "He was headed for their prison system when Vanos intercepted him."

Frowning, Mayor Howard leaned back in his chair and asked, "and this man's in my city?" "Yes, Your Honor," replied Mike. "According to Incursean intelligence, he and his team were placed in charge of a special project involving Earth. Given his background, he's almost certainly the guy on the ground running this." Commissioner Williams asked, "do we know what they're after yet?" "No, sir," replied Mike. "We're still working on that one." "What else do we know," asked the Commissioner? With a heavy sigh, Lucy admitted, "you have an infiltrator, sir." All four visitor's faces snapped over to hers.

Lucy squared up and met those stares, explaining, "one of my officers dug through every scrap of paper in the case file, looking for information we could use. She started finding inconsistencies. She turned the documents over to our techs, and they did a detailed analysis. Somebody's gone through the case files and meticulously replaced or edited documents. The changes are small ones, but they're enough to throw off an investigation and send the investigators down any number of rat holes."

Lucy explained, "it's one of my people. Our techs scanned the papers for DNA traces, and they found a Lenopan signature overlaid with a human one. Unfortunately, Earth only records DNA of criminals, so we've got no idea _who_ the infiltrator is posing as." Alarm greeted those words. All four men had been a little puzzled as to why they were being examined when they came in here. Now they knew, and that scared the hell out of them.

The mayor demanded, "you've got to find this person!" "Not as easy as it sounds," replied Lucy. "They could have done this half-a-hundred ways. They could have slipped in once or twice in disguise and done their dirt without anybody realizing that the person they were talking to was a double. The real person comes back from lunch without even knowing what happened. They could have gone for full replacement and just taken over the other man's life. It could be anybody in your department who has access to those records. The men at that office. The janitorial staff. Internal Affairs. Anybody."

The Commissioner could see the looming disaster. He hadn't wanted these people involved in his business in his town. Now he was dealing with a rather harsh reality check. He simply hadn't known how deep the pool was when he jumped in, and now he was screwed.

"What do you need to find this man," he asked? "Anything's on the table." "For the future," said Mike, "we would recommend you adopt the procedure the BPD adopted. Every man and woman on the force and all the civilian employees get embedded with an RFID chip, and we embed a detector in every badge, every squad car, and every office in the department. Systematically, every man and woman gets scanned just to be sure..." It was an expensive proposition, and the mayor and the head of the city council both looked like they would squeal.

Mike cut them off before they could start, declaring, "you don't have a choice, just like we didn't. We lost two good men, and Lucy and I almost got killed ourselves. These guys are insidious, and they don't give a damn who they hurt or what they have to do to survive. One of the BPD infiltrators took over his victim's entire life. Lived with his wife and kids for _weeks_ without them even knowing it." "You said that was the future," muttered Hizzoner. "What do we do now?" "We're setting a trap," said Lucy. "With thirty-thousand men on the force, there's no hope of finding the one guy who could be doing this. We're going to give him something he can pass on, and use it to hang him."

"Do we have anything else," asked Graves? He didn't give a tinker's damn for the principles or the money. These guys were selling killer smack on his streets and people were dieing. They needed to catch these guys. Mike replied, "we have a line on where they're making the drops. We also know where they're shipping the product to." "Then we should put together a couple of raids," said the Commissioner. Shaking his head, Mike replied, "not that simple, sir. We rushed in in Bellwood and we very nearly lost two-dozen cops–two whole SWAT teams–and very nearly lost the Plumbers' tactical team too. We want to do this the smart way."

"What do you suggest," asked Graves? Lucy took up the thread, announcing, "first we want to confirm that we have the right spot. I'm going into the distribution center disguised as one of them. My job's to find out who's there, what they have for weapons, and whether or not the product is there. Once we know that, we can raid the place. The drop-site's a little cleaner. We can scope them from long distance and determine what we're up against. Depending on what we're faced with, it may make sense to let them make the drop and then let your officers ambush the human players on their way back to the city while the Plumbers ambush the ship making the drop."

Before Graves could argue, Mike explained, "like force against like force, sir. Our weapons have a hard time penetrating their armor, but they don't have any trouble killing our guys. We want to take care of the thugs workin' f'er these guys, cut off their distribution network. Let the Plumbers handle the aliens and their tech." "Fair enough," rumbled the Commissioner. "When can we move?" "The shipments come on Saturday night," said Lucy. "That gives me time to get in, get the information, and get out. We'll start slow and work our way up to the actual infiltration." "Why wait," asked the Mayor?

"If Lucy goes in, it will be as one of _them_," explained Mike. "That means we'll be picking up one of their guys. The minute that face goes missing, they'll know their cover's blown." The four of them glanced at the strange woman standing there before them. It was a little hard to reconcile that she wasn't human. At the same time, this was what they had. "Ok," said Hizzoner. "Keep us posted." The four wanted to pick Mike's brain on the things the NYPD needed to do going forward to adjust. Lucy said her goodbyes and headed out. Mike wanted her to track down the Bloods and the remnant of MS13.

"Not sure how you can be so used to that," rumbled the Mayor. Mike shrugged. Councilwoman Claire Rycken opined, "she seems like a nice girl, Reuben." Insistently, the Mayor asked, "what does she really look like? I mean, is she even a she..." Embarrassed, the Councilwoman pointed out, "she was _engaged_, Reuben! To somebody with good taste, from the look of that ring..." The Commissioner, who'd been trying to signal his boss to shut up about the alien-woman now jabbed him in the thigh.

"Dammit, Williams," growled the Mayor. "What the hell's the matter with you? I'm trying to ask him about the alien..." Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Inspector Graves told the nitwit, "Officer Mann is engaged to Officer Stack, sir. They were here on vacation, meeting his family..." The Mayor's face went red-hot as he realized that he'd just insulted the man who was saving his butt. On top of that, they'd just interrupted a family gathering and dragged these two into their problems. "You have good taste, Detective," opined Claire Rycken. Modestly, Mike replied, "had help from a jeweler, ma'am." He moved on just as if his lady _hadn't_ been insulted.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

The pretty blond was out of place in the rundown housing project that Latavia called home. Tall, with sparkling eyes in a unique blue-violet hue, and with a body like a Maxim model, she drew the attention of every face on the street, male and female alike. More than one person made catcalls or crude offers, and a good half of those were _women_! Lucy paid it no heed. She was in _their_ world, and she knew it. Besides, she had a half-dozen of her friends waiting to bail her out.

Listening to radio chatter alerted her that there were watchers, and Lucy played it cool, knowing she'd soon be making contact. This could lead to another piece of critical information–another brick in the wall as Mike put it. It was the thing she lived for–the thrill of rolling the dice. _But you've got a new thrill to think about,_ thought Lucy. She was getting _married_. Soon after, she hoped to be starting a family. Mike was right. Risking it all on one throw of the dice wasn't going to work anymore. Mike deserved better, and she wouldn't be much of a mom if she got geeked and left her kids without a mother.

A voice behind her announced, "girl, don't you know you broke down in the _wrong_ neighborhood!" Lucy turned around to find a large black woman with short hair and a round face standing there. Lucy flashed her badge, announcing, "I'm here to unclog the pipes..." She nodded at the van across the street. The plump woman took a good look at the strange badge as Lucy calmly explained, "I hear there's frogs stuck inside..." "Well come on up," said the plump woman. Lucy signaled Tom, who stepped out of the van, wearing a set of ratty overalls. He caught up as the two women made the entry to one of the projects.

The threesome strolled past open doors and through the refuse that seemed to collect in this place of poverty. Lucy's keen eyes picked out small details as she passed this or that open apartment. There were large numbers of men and very few women and children if any. All those men looked young, fast, and _rough_. _Guards,_ thought Lucy. The leadership of the Bloods was running scared. They had forted themselves up in this place, hoping to hold out against anybody or any _thing_ that might come after them. Lucy filed that away. It was leverage against them.

The plump woman led the two cops up the stairs, claiming the elevator was out of commission. Neither cop said a word, but Lucy kept her eyes open. It was easy to get killed in a stairwell, and they didn't know for sure just who they were meeting up with. Climbing to the fifth floor, the plump woman led them off the landing and down the hall to an apartment square in the middle of the building. Knocking on the door, she called out, "it's me, Latavia." The door opened just a hair, and an eyeball asked the plump woman, "who's wit you?" "Plumbers come t'fix the water," said Latavia. "Come t'get them frogs out."

The door opened, and the three were admitted. Lucy found herself in one of the larger apartments, facing a half dozen large black men. All were 'flamed up' as the slang went, wearing their affiliations on their backs. A quick glance showed her 9mm Berettas, .40 Smith &amp; Wessons, and a couple of old-school Colts. The gangsters insisted on patting the two cops down, and Lucy's 'friend' insisted on getting a little too close. "I prefer Italian," opined the Lenopan woman. "What," stammered the surprised thug? "I expect dinner before somebody grabs my tits like that," retorted the cop.

The startled thug came up with her badge and gun. "Like Men in Black," said the gangster, as he held the tiny little ray-gun out to his boss. "You would be Lucille," announced Lavonne James. "And you would be Lavonne James," replied Lucy. Shaking his head and laughing, the gangster opined, "I'd run into a burning building for you." Even though that was the code phrase, Lucy blushed anyway. "Her boyfriend already did," blurted Tom. Which only made Lucy's blush deepen. "Alright," said Lucy. "Now that we're friends... What can you tell me?" The gangster offered her a chair. Sitting down, Lucy crossed her legs and said, "we don't have a lot of time here, so I need to know everything you know."

"They're running their shit out of four trap-houses in my territory," said Mr. James. "Mixed bunch of guys... I guess what you'd call 'eclectic'." "Nice word," allowed Lucy. Mr. James had some education. "Mexicans... African Americans... Whites...," said the thug. "They've got 'em all... Like a UN of the ghetto. They only run traps, though. They don't try to run the corners. We figured maybe there's frogs in there. Can't get anybody inside to see. Last two who tried ended up in the East River." Lucy nodded, as she wrote that down. "Addresses," she asked? One of his thugs rattled off the addresses for her.

"Anything else," she asked? "Any word on rival gangs?" "No," said James, "but there's something else..." Leaning forward, he said, "people been comin' up missin', Ms. Mann." At Lucy's frown, he said, "first we thought it was the usual... Crackheads goin' off to some abandoned building and OD'ing. But it started to turn... It was workin' mommas. It was young boys in high-school who didn't run the game. Even a church-goin' woman." Lucy frowned. That was dangerous news. "Any clues what happened to them," asked Lucy? Lavonne James turned to one of his henchman and said, "go get the Reverend..."

The thug went back into the hall and was gone several minutes. When he finally returned, he had a distinguished older man with him. Reverend Paul Cummings had been asked to come down personally by the man he considered the scourge of his neighborhood. He hadn't understood why, and he was puzzled by the presence of the young blonde woman. "You're that girl from Mission Avenue," blurted the Reverend. "Yeah," sighed Lucy. "That'd be me." "News said you were some kind of super-cop form the west-coast," said the Reverend, as he came around in front of her. "Plumber," corrected Lucy. "I clean up messes."

Shaking his head, the preacher declared, "we got a big mess in this neighborhood, Ms..." "Mann," replied Lucy. "Lucy Mann." "Well," said he. "We been havin' people go missing from their homes and from the streets... good people. Not bangers. Not the crackheads. Family men and housewives." "Anything in common," asked Lucy? The preacher frowned. He hadn't really thought of that. "A street," asked Lucy? "A family? A trade?" Frowning, the reverend admitted, "five of 'em worked at an old factory off TBD street before it went bust." "Interesting," murmured Lucy. "Where's this old factory?"

Lucy spent more than two hours with the preacher and his nemesis, the gangster. Tom got an education on what questions to ask and how to ask them as Lucy pulled an astonishing amount of intel out of people who mostly didn't know what they were telling a stranger. When the conversation grew stale–the locals ran out of interesting things to say–Lucy declared the conversation over. Minutes later, one of Mr. James' pet thugs led them out the back of the tenement and onto the street.

"How'd you learn to do that," asked Tom? He'd been torn between being ready to piss himself and confusion over what to say or ask. With a shrug, Lucy replied, "it's not that hard, Tom. I've only been doing this since I was five. Though most everybody in my home town is Lenopan, there're about fifty human families. We go out of our way not to spoil things for them. And we do still get the County Sheriff through town, and sometimes some knucklehead from the state stops by. You have to learn early not to be afraid of being in the presence of someone who could hurt you..." "...because you'd give yourself away," rumbled Tom. He got it. No wonder she was so cool.

"For the rest," said Lucy, "I learned early that you don't put yourself out there. Most sentient species love to congregate. We love to talk about home and the weather and the clutch of eggs the wife just hatched..." "You lay eggs," he stammered. "Nope," said Lucy. "Just testing to see if you're learning. You pass, by the way..." With an impish smile, Lucy opened the door of the van to reveal their backup waiting _im_patiently. "Miss us," asked the Lenopan? Reese grunted, "just trying to avoid facing Mike with bad news..."

Continuing to talk, Lucy explained, "if you're on the run from someone or something, you _don't_ talk. Don't talk at all, and you avoid situations where you'll be forced too. So you don't look like a wet-blanket with no personality, you encourage _them_ to talk by pretending to listen." Tom nodded. He could see what she was saying now.

The van rolled back across town to the station while Lucy quizzed Tom on what he'd seen and heard. Reese put in her thoughts on the disappearances, noting that the NYPD tip-line had seen a lot of traffic regarding disappearances. By the time they got back to the station, they had decided on yet another tack for the investigation to take.

Arriving at the station, they found the Alphas in a frantic drill looking for one of their uniforms. It had turned up missing while Molly and her crew had been on the roof getting exercise. "Hey, babe," announced Lucy as she, Tom, and Reese came strolling up the stairs. Stopping in front of her man, Lucy gave him a quick peck on the cheek, asking, "how'd it go with the Mayor?" "Scared 'em," sighed Mike. He'd had to scare them. The Mayor and the Alderman had both balked at the expense required to outfit the NYPD to deal with having aliens among them. Mike had had to resort to scare tactics–dredging up some of the awful that Ben and Lucy had both been through–to get his point across. News that pretty much every human being on Earth had _lost_ a piece of their lives after an alien managed to temporarily turn them all into mind-controlled drones scared the two of them shitless. Mike got his money–or rather the Commissioner did–but Mike wasn't happy about it.

"Honey," said Lucy, as she gripped his shoulders. "You're fighting behind the power-curve. Earth's all but defenseless, and it's time we started taking steps to correct that." From believing wholeheartedly in the secrecy the Magister had maintained over the years, Lucy had become a convert to Ben's side. There weren't enough Plumbers to maintain the illusion for Earth any longer. Humanity had to grow up. "How'd your thing go," asked Mike? "Went great, babe," said Lucy. "C'mon. I'll tell you all about it..."

Before they could get very far, though, the sound of a gunshot from the basement had everybody's attention. The sound of Nick's new toy was loud enough to attract every man and woman in the building. They all came running to the basement. There they found Nick examining the missing Plumber-suit. There was a rather substantial hole straight through the chest.

"Nick," shouted Mike. "What the fuck?" "Since we don't get blasters," said Nick. "I got _this_." He held up the AR-pistol. "What the fuck is that," demanded Tim? ".50 Beowulf," replied Nick. "Rednecks in Texas use 'em to bust wild pigs. They call it the DRT gun. Dead Right There. No chasing the fucking pig across half the county to see if it died. And... (with a flourish)... goes right through space-man armor." Dropping the magazine and clearing the chamber, he handed it to Mike.

"Holy shit," growled Mike. The barrel looked like a sewer-pipe. It was a lot like some of the old-time gangster guns with the barrel cut down and the stock removed. Nick had even attached a strap to the back of it. "Where'd you get this," asked Mike? "Ordered it online," replied Nick. "Got it on your budget." Holding out the magazine, he said, "only ten shots, but this gets us back in the game at least." He gave Molly a smirk. Molly answered with–a 'your ass is mine' smile. Lucy's hand on her shoulder suggested that she let it go. They were all in this together, and the Plumbers needed these guys pulling their weight.

The new toy got passed around, and everyone tried it on for size. It was a little heavy for Reese, but most of the guys thought they could handle it. "Try a two-handed grip," said Nick. "Maybe put a front-grip on it." "Good work, Nick," said Mike. "How many more of these can we get?" "Asked for five," he admitted. "Gunsmith figures he can assemble the rest from parts inside a week..." "Alright, everybody," said Mike. "Briefing in thirty..."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

The pretty young woman came flouncing down the dimly lit hallway in tight low-rise jeans and a tight white tee-shirt, that fantastic ass wiggling like a fantasy come to life. Elisa had the stereotypical Latin booty that men talked about, and she left a trail of boners as she passed down the hall. Being a first-generation Salvadoran immigrant, the beautiful girl was hard-core, able to run with the best of the men in the gang, and that was why she was trusted by the gang's fanatical leadership. More to the point, with so many male members of MS13 occupying the morgue, they didn't have a lot of depth on the bench right now.

Coming to the middle of the hallway, Elisa knocked on the door and whispered the pass-phrase. The door opened slowly, revealing the presence of the supreme leader's ugly face. Salvatore was at the window–a place he knew he wasn't supposed to be. His safety depended on him staying out of sight, but he'd confided to Elisa that he felt like he was back in prison. The pressure of being on the run from the killer frogs was making him crazy.

"News," asked Leo, his chief bodyguard and henchman? "Did you make contact?" Elisa kept walking. "No time for games, mamasita," announced Leo. "Did you find this Lucy..." "No," replied Elisa. "She wasn't in. I didn't know which ones to trust, so I left." Salvatore spat curses. That was his best hope. They were at the end of their ropes with just a couple-hundred loyal soldiers left out of the thousands they'd once been able to boast. He'd made the decision to go hard against the frogs, not even realizing what they were up against, and that decision had cost him nearly all of his manpower.

The thought of turning to the police–turning to the oppressors who routinely rousted his people off the streets–disgusted him. He would have turned to the aliens first, but that option was closed. They didn't have a choice. The weapons they'd wielded to terrorize the neighborhoods they called home–to keep the white man in fear of them–were nothing against these _ranas_. Now he'd failed in getting hold of the cops.

Unfortunately for Salvatore, that was about to become the least of his problems.

A distant sound of gunfire alerted them that all was not well. "They're here," shouted Leo. He rushed for the door into the hallway, admitting the sounds of automatic weapons fire. They could hear it all–pistols and choppers going off in a staccato beat like fireworks or a drumroll as his men unleashed full-auto rock-and-roll on the enemy. Screams announced that their men were dieing. There was a whole lot of screaming.

"Salvatore," howled Leo. "We gotta' go!" He spun around to find Elisa standing next to the boss–only she had her arm embedded in his face up to the wrist. Grinning a sinister smile as her face slowly melted into brown goop, Elisa said, "I'd start running, pendejo." Leo turned and sprinted down the hall towards the window at the far end. They were four stories up at the very top floor of the old factory, but he didn't care. His courage had melted away at that sight. Reaching the window–just now covered in plastic garbage bags–Leo threw himself through the window, falling thirty feet to the rooftop beyond.

The sludge-puppy pulled her hand out of the dead man's face, returning the bones to their normal places with the absent-minded efficiency of her race. Crossing the room, she fell back into her favorite shape, becoming a petite, slender human woman with peroxide hair. As she reached the end of the hall, she met her allies coming up. "d'you bring my clothes," asked the pretty blond? The Hispanic girl's clothes were falling off of her. The frog handed her the bundle she'd left with them. "The guards are dead," hissed the lead toad. "What about their leader?" Nodding at the room with the corpse, the sludge-puppy replied, "I took care of it."

It was five in the morning when Mike's comlink rang. Lucy's was just a beat behind. They'd only barely gotten to sleep after working all day and well into the night. They'd had SWAT teams to brief. There was the job of coordinating raids on all the locations they had scoped out, and there was the job of ensuring their best undercover asset could safely get in and out without being made. After a very late and very lousy dinner, the two had gotten home at two AM. Finding Mike's brother asleep on the couch–curled up in one of Mike's blankets–Lucy had insisted he sleep with her. Now the two rose from their abbreviated slumber feeling exhausted and irritable.

"Why do we do this again," asked Lucy, as she swung her legs out of bed? Mike laughed. He did wonder some days. More seriously, he asked, "how you holdin' up, honey?" She had gotten the worst of it. The jet-lag had kicked her ass the first couple of days here. "I'm ok," said Lucy. "Let's get at it. I'll drive."

Twenty minutes later, the proto-truk landed in a deserted street and slipped silently up to their destination, finding a beehive of activity there on the street in front of a run-down factory. At first the cops manning the barricade didn't want to let them through, but Mike's badge changed their minds, and soon Lucy was pulling up to the scene of the crime. "Helluva mess," muttered Mike, as he took in the sight of all the bodies. "I think we just lost one of our gangs," sighed Lucy. Grimly, Mike stared at her. "Someone breached their security," said Lucy. Mike knew what that meant.

Climbing out of the truk, the two headed over to where a white-shirted officer was giving instructions. He wanted the press kept well back from this. A hovering police helicopter was already warning off news-choppers. "What do we have," asked Mike as he approached? "A fucking _massacre_," growled Bartholomew Hayes. "There's a hundred bodies here!" He'd been briefed on the alien-police, and he glared at Mike, demanding, "I thought you were supposed to be handling this!" Lucy pushed past the angry cop and approached the coroner's wagon. Two men from the coroner's office were putting a naked corpse inside. Lucy stopped them and drew the sheet back to look at what they had. She had a hunch.

The Hispanic woman's once-beautiful face was badly mangled. It looked like an iron bar had been driven up through the woman's jaw and into her skull. Mike and the angry NYPD Captain appeared at either shoulder, wondering what she was looking at. "This was how they got in," sighed Lucy. Bart Hayes asked, "how do you know?" "The infiltrator needed her face, and she needed to know the passwords and security," said Lucy. Rolling the sheet back over the corpse, she said, "she probably sucked it literally from this woman's skull." "You say her," rumbled the gang cop. "Male Lenopan wouldn't portray females," said Mike as he signaled the coroners to take the body. "It's considered emasculating." Lucy announced, "our captive frog told us they only had one infiltrator. We can now eliminate more than half of our pool of suspects..." It was time to get busy hunting down a rogue.

As Lucy strode off to check some of the other bodies, Bart turned to his 'expert'. Taking off his hat and scratching at his hair, he asked, "what does all that mean? How does she know that?" Mike replied, "on Earth, you're born a guy or you're born a girl, and people go through enormous amounts of pain and suffering to become what they think they really want to be. Her people? They're born with the means to be whatever they want. They have so many choices, they stand a real risk of losing themselves. I'm sure it'd be a fascinating subject for behavioral scientists, but they... They're very particular. The only person Lucy knows who regularly portrays males is her, and she'll only take it so far. She doesn't want to forget what she was born as or who she is." Shaking his head, he headed off to join his lady. He knew she'd be hurting inside right now. Having seen that, she'd be thinking of all the consequences that her family and friends back home could suffer as backlash for such an awful crime.

"Talk t'me, Luce," said Mike. "What are we looking at?" "Incursean weapons," said Lucy. "Pistols probably. I'm guessing they didn't want to make noise." Shockingly their rifles made a tremendous racket–sounding a lot like man-made thunder when they were fired. The pistols were loud, but not nearly as obnoxious. Nick and Helen appeared in the doorway of the old factory. "It's a mess in there, guys," whistled Nick. "Casings everywhere." "The gangsters put up a fight," said Helen. "There's frog-blood in a couple of places." "Their shot-caller's dead," said Nick. "Half his face is gone." Lucy's face snapped up to his. Nick wasn't sure why that was significant, but he said, "looked like somebody drove a steel pipe into his jaw." "She took his memories," growled Lucy. "The leader of the Bloods may be in danger."

Bart Hayes frowned in puzzlement as the pretty blond girl went sprinting towards the beat-up tradesman's van she'd come riding up in. Halfway there, the strange, blue-skinned creature caught her and even passed her. As the gang officer watched in amazement, the van transformed into a spaceship and roared out of there, nearly knocking their helicopter out of the sky. Bart jogged over to Stack and asked, "what gives?"

"The leader of MS13 was in contact with the leader of the Bloods about an alliance," said Mike. "My officers believe the Bloods will be next." He was so calm. Bart was shaken to his core. He'd never seen so many bodies. If this was how these creatures did business... "How the hell did things get like this," babbled the Captain? "Never mind that," sighed Mike. "We need to see that it doesn't get worse." That meant damage control. Drawing his comlink, Mike called Molly and the Alphas. He wanted them to bring a couple more vehicles down to help empty the warehouse before the news agencies got wind of what was going on.

Racing across town, Lucy and Helen approached the Warner Homes, finding the residents just shaking themselves out for the day. As Helen brought the proto-truk in for a landing, Lucy scanned the area, looking for one person in particular. "There," said Lucy. "Take us down!" She would have recognized that heavy body from a mile off. The proto-truk descended onto the courtyard as a plump woman came walking out of one of the buildings. A startled Latavia Wilson jumped back from the strange machine that had dropped out of the sky in front of her. As she reached for the pistol packed in her purse, Lucy jumped out of the truk. "Wait," said she.

The plump woman frowned at her, and she continued to grip the .38 snubby she had in her purse. Lucy scanned the plump woman. "Yeah, human," rumbled the Lenopan. "Whazzat mean," asked Latavia? "Means you didn't get killed and replaced last night..." There was a small crowd there on the courtyard, and they were all staring at the proto-truk and the blue-skinned alien that had gotten out of it. Lucy took the opportunity to scan them too. As she reached the small group clustered at the entry to the courtyard, the life-form scanner flashed red. Lucy's eyes locked with a petite brunette who'd been standing there in the crowd.

The other Lenopan was in motion just as quick as can be. Lucy was running after her before Helen could even register what she was doing or why. It was only when the fleeing murderess opened fire that Helen got something of a clue about what was going on. And then she was trying to save lives. Running at full tilt, she crossed the courtyard before most of the people there even realized she was moving. Using her tail, she knocked down as many people as she could, taking them out of the line of fire as their rogue sludge-puppy emptied her pistol at the crowd. The Lenopan rogue turned south and sprinted down the street with Lucy in hot pursuit.

Meanwhile Helen turned to cleaning up the mess, shouting, "anyone hit? Is anyone here injured?" "M-my daughter," shouted one woman! "She's been shot in the stomach!" Helen ran towards the sound of the voice, finding a young woman there with a child who was bleeding profusely from her abdomen. Helen grabbed the child and raced for the proto-truk. Lucy was on her own. With the child strapped into one of the stasis beds in the back and the mother in the passenger seat, Helen lifted off, programming the autopilot to take them to the nearest hospital, while she called the team to let them know what was happening. In short order, Mike was on his way across town to search for Lucy, while Nick and the others finished up at the MS13 massacre.

Mike took the trip at scary speeds, flying the proto-truk through the darkened cityscape faster than the Plumbers typically allowed. The woman he loved was in danger, running without backup against the same people who'd just taken out an entire street-gang. Indeed, as Mike closed in on the area where his fiancé was in hot pursuit of one of their perps, deadly forces were closing in as well. The Plumbers had burned the op against the remaining street gangs, and Rillec wanted his agent retrieved before they lost her. Rolling up on the scene in a trash-truck, the Incurseans were pondering what to do when their sensors detected the proto-truk arriving on scene.

Mike found Lucy standing in the middle of a darkened side-street, half-stooped over, gasping for breath. Setting the proto-truk down behind her, he jumped out and rushed up the street to her side, weapon at the ready. "Fuuuck, that little bitch was fast," panted Lucy. "Chased her six fucking blocks!" "Any idea where she went," asked Mike? "If I did, I'd probably still be chasing her," gasped Lucy. "How're you feelin', honey," asked Mike? Lucy gave him an odd look. Usually by now he'd have rushed up, hugged the stuffing out of her, and tried to stuff his tongue down her throat. He was a very _concerned_ boyfriend. Seeing the way he was watching her, Lucy muttered, "alright, already. Get it over with." Turning away and holding her hands up where he could see them, she motioned for him to scan her. Mike held the sniffer up, finding that Lucy's transponder was pinging just like it should.

"You just like looking at my ass," grumped Lucy. "Yeah," laughed Mike. "I do." Slipping his arms around his lady's waist, he said, "we got lucky, baby. Your quick thinking saved us a boat-load of trouble." They would have had two massive massacres, and that was more than he could have explained. Lowering her arms, Lucy rested her hands on his and said, "mmmm, you should show me how much you appreciate me..." Leaning in, Mike kissed her cheek, whispering, "love to." In the now, they needed to go see some thugs about some alternative security arrangements.

As the two cops walked back down the street towards their vehicle, Lucy's quarry watched them from a fire escape. That was interesting. Their two lead cops had a thing going. More to the point, one of them was the nasty bitch who worked for the Plumbers. There were a lot of people in the Lenopan underworld that wanted Lucy Mann and her nasty little family wiped off the face of the Earth.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

"We've got the leadership of the Bloods and Latin Kings in protective custody," said Mike Stack. "We're working on tracking down leadership of some of the other top street gangs." Commissioner Williams thanked him. That could have gone much worse than it had. With the Plumbers' help, they'd managed to slip most of the bodies out of the area undetected by the news-media. Stopping the assassination of the other gang leaders would prevent a second disaster, and they'd even scored bonus points rushing that injured kid to the hospital.

"When can we go on the offensive, officer," asked the Chief? "We've checked them, but they're still selling their poison." Mike replied, "we've got three of the principal locations under surveillance right now. We're trying to confirm which ones have Rillec's men inside and which ones don't. NYPD SWAT will get the ones without..." "I have a plan to maybe help the odds with that," announced Lucy. "Out with it," demanded the Chief!

Shaking his head in mild irritation, Mike explained, "Officer Mann wants to use the gangsters as bait for a trap." Frowning, the Commissioner asked, "explain?" Lucy answered that with, "they don't really know how many of the gangs we've already rounded up. They have to assume we got to the Bloods, but they don't know we snagged the Latin Kings or the Gangster Disciples. We drop word on the street through one of their people just where the gang leadership can be found. The frogs move on that spot. We move on their trap-houses and distro network. We have Molly and the Alphas waiting on the frogs. You get your punks. I get my frogs. Everybody wins... Except the frogs..."

The two top cops thought about that long and hard. Chief Bolton found himself more than a little queasy. For the Commissioner, it was almost a _desperate_ play. "No," said he. "Too much risk. I don't want a firefight. I just want these guys rounded up." "Fair enough," agreed Lucy. Taking up the thread of the conversation, Mike said, "we'll be ready to move in a couple of days. I've got an officer out at the meadowlands working with SWAT to pick a spot to take down the truck with the drugs. I've got another guy working on a plan for the trap-houses. We'll get this done." "Good work," announced the Commissioner. "Keep me posted."

The two senior cops headed out, leaving Lucy and Mike alone. Lucy came over to Mike and gave him a hot kiss that seemed to promise she would be pretty frisky tonight. Having missed her the past few nights, Mike couldn't resist slipping his arms around her. Before they got too far with that, Helen coughed and Nick Luchini announced, "get a room!" Blushing, the two separated. "What's up," asked Mike?

Grinning, Nick announced, "Fergi's cracked the encryption on those hacked iPhones. She's working on a gadget to tap their communications..." Helen added, "we've also started cataloguing every female member of the NYPD. I should have a list of likely suspects tomorrow morning..." "Great news," laughed Mike. Tim stuck his head in and announced, "got some not-so-great news, Mike. ABC News is at the door, and they want an interview..." "Shit," growled Mike. "Tell 'em I'll be right out..." With a sorrowful look, Tim replied, "they want to interview Lucy."

Lucy's face went red hot. "Uh... Plumbers don't give interviews," rumbled Lucy. Tim answered that statement with, "they say they know just how many guys got whacked in the MS-13 massacre, and they're going to put it on the air if they don't get their interview." "Sonofabitch," growled Mike. "Better come up with something fast," muttered Nick. "Alright," muttered Mike. "Command decision. Tim? Grab a scanner. Take 'em around back to the back stairs and up to the second floor conference room. Check their gear. No live broadcast." With a sigh, Lucy rumbled, "I guess I better do my face."

Twenty minutes later, Ms. Charlene Fox found herself sitting on a folding chair in a bare room with a half-dozen floods focused on her while she waited for her special guest to arrive. In spite of volunteering for this, she felt a sensation close to _panic_. What had she walked herself into? What if these people were dangerous? She'd heard some shocking things from their source on Ms. Mann.

There was a bit of a commotion outside, and what sounded like heated words. Then the door opened, and a lovely blond woman came in. Just before the door shut, the reporter got a glimpse of a handsome young twenty-something with beautiful olive skin and short dark hair. Sitting down on the chair opposite Charlene, the pretty blond opened with, "hello. I'm Lucy Mann. I understand you want an interview..." She was far and away the most normal looking _person_ Charlene had ever met. Dressed in a green pullover over blue slacks and wearing stylish flats, she looked the part of _police detective_.

"I have to say, you don't really look like an alien," opined Charlene. Lucy shrugged. That was, more or less, the point. "Sooo... What planet are you from," asked Charlene? "Earth," replied Lucy. "I mean originally," corrected the reporter. With a shrug, Lucy replied, "Earth. I'm a US citizen by birth, eligible to run for President if I was crazy enough to want the job." The reporter's jaw hit the floor. Flushing, the journalist said, "I... I wasn't expecting..." "We were immigrants," explained Lucy, "the same as the Italians and Irish. My people landed here about the same time my over-protective boyfriend's family got off the boat at Ellis Island. We didn't get handed names like they did, but we picked names to fit in."

She sounded so... _American_. Charlene found herself way out of her depth. Glancing down, she spotted the ring on Lucy's left hand. "Is that an engagement ring," asked Charlene? Nodding, Lucy replied, "haven't set a date yet. We've been too busy dealing with your Incursean problem." "What species is he," asked Charlene? "Irish-Jewish... or Jewish-Irish depending on what side of the family you're talking to..." "_Human_," rumbled the reporter? Lucy nodded. The reporter sat there staring at her feet for a long few moments, looking a little lost.

Leaning forward, Lucy said, "listen, I don't bite... You can ask me whatever you like as long as it's not about an active investigation..." Charlene replied, "I've heard that some of you do bite..." Lucy retorted, "they get arrested. We send them to the Null Void." "Sounds bad," opined the journalist. "It _is_ bad," replied Lucy. "That's kind of the point." Charlene barked a laugh, and Lucy joined her. "You have an interesting laugh," chuckled the reporter. Blushing, Lucy admitted, "it's the thing that keeps me from being a perfect 10. My fiancé puts up with it."

Ice broken at last, Charlene found herself finally able to move on. As Mike Stack listened from the far side of the door, the two had a wide-ranging conversation, chatting about everything from where Lucy was born to what her plans and ambitions were for the future. News that Lucy was hoping to have her 2.5 kids and just live a normal life had Charlene intensely curious. "Why a human," she asked? Lucy shrugged and said, "when a man cares about you so much that he runs into two shoot-outs to save your butt, that's the one you want to grab." Charlene blushed. She could see that. "Mike takes care of me," sighed Lucy. "Not in a pampering sort of way... He takes care of all the little stuff that starts to grind you down, and he keeps me out of the dumb things that people do that's self-destructive." "Sounds like a good man," admitted the journo.

"So you're here meeting the in-laws," said Charlene. "How did you end up on this case?" Laughing that awful laugh, Lucy said, "dumb luck. I was shopping with my sister-in-law. Call it cop-instinct, but the three jokers in the park looked like they were up to no good. I was mostly interested in getting Val out of there with no new openings, but then the frogs shot the patrolman and were going to shoot his partner... I had to step in." With a shrug, Lucy said, "no good deed goes unpunished... Mike and I found ourselves riding down-town to meet the Commissioner."

"What was that like," asked Charlene? Lucy replied, "eye-opening. We try to stay out of the spotlight. By the laws of the Plumber League, we're not supposed to have a lot of contacts." "Why not," asked the journo? "Earth doesn't have a functioning government yet," replied Lucy. "Most races have one after the first couple global conflicts. Earth's on its fourth. Magister Tennyson's trying to push the process along, but it's tough. We... don't want to have the appearance of taking sides..." Charlene could see the point of that.

"How long have you worked as a cop," asked the reporter? "Four years," replied Lucy. Nodding in understanding, Charlene asked, "what made you want to be law enforcement?" "Met the Magister at my cousin's wedding," said Lucy. "He and his grandson stopped my aunt and uncle from assaulting the wedding party. I wanted to be a Plumber that day..." "Why do you call yourselves Plumbers," asked Charlene? Laughing, Lucy explained the mistranslation that got the Plumbers their name.

In the end, Charlene got far more than she bargained for. The strange young woman wasn't the fearsome, face-stealing monster their mysterious whistle-blower made her out to be. Charming and funny, the young woman was a stereotypical girl next door. Honestly, Charlene Fox _liked_ her. She could have been Charlene's sister or cousin. The reporter had her sensational story for the evening news, but it wasn't the one she'd set out to tell. Thanking the detective for her time, the reporter and her crew got on their way.

Mike came in when they had gone. He wasn't happy with revealing Lucy's home town to the world. "We knew this day was coming, Mike," sighed Lucy. "We've planned for it... I think it's going to be ok..." Mike slipped his arms around her. He hadn't yet met his in-laws, but he loved their daughter. He would lay down his life for her, and by extension he'd be right there with her family. Laying her head on his shoulder, Lucy said, "that's why I love you, honey."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

The young chicano punk was terrified, and honestly Joe Savage didn't blame him. She'd just touched his hand and literally _become_ him. The only thing she didn't have were the tats. Joe felt a shiver of fear course through him as the alien studied the mark. She could do that to anybody she wanted. She could be Kerry. She could be his kids. She could be _him_. Then, as he watched, greenish-black prison ink sprouted on either of her/his arms. "Tats too," whistled Reese? "Wow!" Lucy smirked at her. "Be back in a bit," announced the shape-changer.

As the cops and their unwilling guest watched, Lucy drew on a down jacket and strolled across to the old laundry. "Jeezus," growled Joe. "That's fucking crazy!" Reese shrugged. She'd gotten her dose the first day! Joe had gotten complacent. The gang had gone out for drinks earlier in the week. They'd all gotten to see Lucy off duty, just being a normal person, and that had made Joe comfortable with her. Now this. Shaking off the shock, Joe turned to the listening device, tuning in as their ersatz gangster went up to the building and knocked on the door.

They could hear her breathing as she waited patiently for the door to open. Lucy greeted the person on the other side of the door with a gruff, "left my phone, man." There was a brief debate at the door, with Lucy insisting on coming back inside. "C'mon, man," she complained. "Jus' wan' my phone, fool." She even _sounded_ like the young gangster. It almost made Joe laugh–especially with the young hood sitting in the back of their van listening in terror. Reese hit him with a snarky zinger, announcing, "maybe our double might go move into your old place... See the girlfriend... She might like a change..." It was a cruel comment, and it had the gangster ready to shit himself. Done laughing, Joe tuned back into what was going on inside the old laundry.

Lucy found herself in strangely familiar surroundings. Just out of sight of the entrance, around a blind corner, she was walking through a state-of-the-art manufacturing facility of some kind. There were machines of various descriptions churning away, milling out metal blocks to make some sort of object that Lucy didn't recognize. There were over a dozen men inside working away. It was a lot like being in Plumber HQ–clean, sterile, and very efficient. "Go get your phone," growled the guard! "Your shift's over!" Lucy hurried through the chamber, headed for a door marked 'locker room'. Inside the locker-room, she found herself scanning the scene, looking for cameras and any other surveillance measures they had on hand. There was one in the corner. She'd have to be careful.

Reaching into her pocket, she drew the key the thug had and took a quick glance before walking straight up to her locker and unlocking it. Rooting around inside, she found it remarkably _free_ of personal effects. _Froglike efficiency,_ thought Lucy. They didn't want these guys tracking in junk from outside.

"What the fuck are you doing," demanded the security guard? "Thought my phone was here," said Lucy. "Guess I was wrong." She hadn't gotten as far as she wanted, but she had an idea what was in here now. Security was a little too tight to push. When she went to brush past the guard, he grabbed her by the shoulder and put a gun in her face. "Uh-uh," said he. "Let's take a walk." Lucy announced, "yo, man! I'm just tryin' t'leave! Where you takin' me, man!" At the same time, she was actually gleeful. This overzealous idiot might just take her to the heart of the complex.

Outside, Joe and Reese were listening with laser-focus to the conversation inside the old laundry. Lucy had said that there was a real risk she'd run into trouble fast, but she'd also admonished them not to jump the gun. Having heard the hair-raising story of how the young alien-girl had met Mike in the first place, the two of them were torn just now, wondering how deep was too deep. Mike had barely gotten to Lucy in time. Neither of the two cops wanted to be telling him they hadn't made it in time to save his wife.

As the two listened, Lucy kept up a blow-by-blow as she was escorted up the stairs and through chambers full of machinery. She kept up a steady chatter as the anxious guard stone-walled and threatened. Finally, she arrived on the third floor, coming out into a large, open space filled with boxes. Just a hundred feet from the elevator, a couple of humans waited. One was clearly older. The other was a younger man, near Mike's age. Both had the hard eyes of men worn into the life of a gangster. A glance at their bodies showed their former allegiances. The older man, a Hispanic, had been a Latin King. The young black man had been a Gangster Disciple. Both now sported the red tattoos of an Incursean, or, in this case, an Incursean servant.

The older man asked, "what you bring him up here for?" "Somethin's wrong with him," rumbled the guard. At the head thug's frown, the guard explained, "said he left his phone, but I caught him standing in the machine room staring around him like he ain't seen it before..." "Really," muttered the black man. Strolling across the room and around a pair of crates, the young turk approached Lucy with a frown on his face. "You been workin' here for four months, and you don't know what machines look like," said the man? "I was jist tryin' t'remember where I lef' my phone...," said Lucy. "You know phones aren't supposed t'come in here, playuh," retorted the thug.

To Lucy's surprise, the man hauled off and punched her hard in the chest. A little surprised, she actually staggered back. The man seemed to consider that, as Lucy considered what she was going to do about this development. "Yo, man," said the infiltrator! "You ain't gotta' do that! I'm sorry! It won't happen again!" Before Lucy could say another word, the man began to frisk her. The thug patted her down top to bottom. She guessed he was looking for a listening device. He wouldn't find one. Lucy's listening device was embedded at the base of her neck beneath the skin. That seemed to give him pause. "You think this one's up t'somethin'," asked the Hispanic? The young black man continued to ponder that, while his antsy pals pondered offing Lucy there on the spot.

Now he reached down the front of the baggy-saggy pants Lucy had gotten from her friend in the van, tucked his hand under Lucy's crotch, and groped her. "Sonofabitch," growled the black man as Lucy's face went red hot. "It's true! This is that bitch they told us about!" "What," said the guard?! "The one with the rubber face," growled the black man! "They got Flores! This bitch replaced him!" _Time to start thinking, Lucy,_ thought the Lenopan. Her cover was blown. "Waste the bitch," growled the Hispanic thug! "Take her to the basement and waste her! Throw the body in with the rest! We'll dump it in a few days!"

The guard grabbed Lucy by the arm and tucked his pistol in against her ribs. He frog-marched her back down the stairs, headed for the basement. "Yo, man," said Lucy! "I don't know what he's talkin' about!" The guard ignored her. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that this _thing_ had walked right by him. He/she/it even _sounded_ like Benito! As the guard reached the first floor, he said, "you won't be runnin' a trick on anybody else. We're gonna' dump your ass in the East River. You can float off with the rest of the garbage..."

That was when the front door burst inwards, blown off its hinges by one of the explosives from the van out front. As the startled guard turned towards the explosion, Lucy disarmed him and shot him twice in the chest. The last thing he saw on Earth was the sight of her face sliding back to normal. As the gangster assumed room temperature, the blonde girl stepped over him. Just now Reese and Joe were shoving their way through the pack of men fleeing the underground laboratory, fighting to reach their boss's lady.

Lucy met them halfway across the machinery room. Lucy barely managed to say, 'glad to see you guys,' before a pack of bandits came running into the room from behind her. As the gangsters opened fire, Lucy threw herself behind a pillar. Reese plugged one thug, then two, as fire walked in on her. Joe tackled her and knocked her down behind one of the heavy milling machines.

"What the fuck happened," demanded Joe?! "Guy-check," retorted Lucy as 9mm slammed into the pillar inches from her head! "_Guy-check_," shouted Joe?! "Yeah," said Lucy as she stepped out and laid down some rounds. She caught one of the perps in the chest and flattened him. When she darted back under cover, Reese stepped out and nailed a second perp. "Are you shooting," demanded Reese, "or asking dumb questions?!" Ducking out, Joe rushed to the next pillar, sliding behind cover at the last moment. As he opened fire, the perps ran for the door at the end of the room. The three cops pursued as Reese called for backup.

The trio cleared the laundry by the numbers, working their way from room to room. The men they were dealing with weren't soldiers, no matter what they chose to call themselves. They didn't stand their ground unless cornered. One by one the three cops picked off the bandits, geeking them in the hallways and laying them out in doorways. In the end, none of these men were really in this for the loyalty to the frogs. They'd been snatched off the streets and coerced into signing on with death as the alternative. As the three cops tore through their ranks, a lot of them got it in mind to say goodbye.

By the time backup arrived, most of the gangsters had fled, running into the early-morning chill in fear. Many of them were picked up within blocks. When all was said, they had two-hundred men being hauled to jail–so many that the stations couldn't handle them all. Joe, Reese, and Lucy found themselves in sole possession of the once and former industrial laundry.

Standing in the entry, watching the last of the young thugs be hauled off, Joe finally had the space to ask the burning question, "what the hell happened? They let you in like it was nothing." Lucy shrugged, "I don't know if it was the interview or what, but the guys in charge seemed to have been warned about me. When they had me upstairs, one of the leaders decided to do 'guy-check'." Which Joe still didn't get. Rolling her eyes, Reese growled, "no dick, dummy!" _Now_ he got it. His face snapped around, and Lucy declared, "strictly taco. No sausage... No matter who I'm impersonating..." Joe couldn't help it. He laughed. He laughed until he had tears streaming down his face. Reese and Lucy laughed too. Then it was time to get back to work.

The SWAT team leader was tense as he stared at the blue-skinned alien-woman sitting in the back of his van. She was monitoring some sort of terminal plugged into an iPhone with jury-rigged wiring conducting some sort of surveillance on the target house. The place didn't fit the typical image of a trap-house. For one, it was in an upscale neighborhood. For another, there were no gangsters hanging out in front, patrolling. A couple of the neighbors had complained over the last few months that there was a large amount of traffic on their streets at all hours of the day and night, but said traffic seemed to be fairly discrete. More to the point, there were no sneakers hanging from the telephone wires or drive-by shootings to advertise the thugs inside, and nobody was casing the place for a drive-by.

"Frogs," rumbled Nick Luchini. "Now that they run the underworld, there ain't anybody to beef with." It was a one-stop shop. These people had the vice of your choice. They delivered it with snappy service in a clean store, and it was just like going down to White-Castles for munchies. In point of fact, Helen had insisted the team park over two blocks away just to avoid attracting notice. Now they were down to the rough part. Were there frogs there or not? Molly's team was on backup at the station, ready to swoop in to the rescue, but that was a last resort. Mike and Lucy wanted this to be an NYPD op all the way.

"Not hearing any frogs," announced Helen. "We're good to go." The SWAT team lead let out the breath he'd been holding. Turning to his assistant team lead, he said, "let's do it." In moments, the team was mounted up on the outside of the van, and the van was rolling through the streets of the quiet little neighborhood. Older men and women watched them go by in puzzlement, and a couple of housewives with small children waved to them as if they were just passing through on a beat.

Nick counted the seconds, and he checked his weapon just in case. He and Helen were going in as part of the raid. They were there ostensibly to corral any evidence of an extra-terrestrial nature. Nick knew the reality was that if there was a frog inside, he could wipe out the tactical team before they could respond. Nick and Helen were supposed to take care of business if it came to that.

The van rolled to a stop in front of the house, and the team-members were on the pavement, beating feet for the house almost before the van was fully stopped. Helen wielded her strange combination multi-tool/blaster thing, slicing a section out of the heavy, wrought-iron fence that protected the trap-house. The SWAT team swarmed through in silence, surrounding the house as the entry team rushed the front door. "NYPD," shouted the SWAT lead! "This is a raid! Open the door!" Not that they were going to wait around for someone to do that.

Again Helen did the honors, slicing the heavy door in half, permitting the man with the ram to knock it inward in just one blow. And then they were inside. The house inside was just as strangely beautiful as the outside. The walls were freshly painted. The floor was done in high-end hardwoods, and the living room and dining room were full of high-end furniture–exactly what you'd expect of a house in this neighborhood. Drawing that device from her pocket again, Helen announced, "downstairs."

The SWAT team raced for the basement stairs. At the same time, out back, the roaches were leaving the burning building, doing their best to escape. They ran straight into an army of NYPD blue. The heavily armed cops in back snatched the men up and started bundling them into squad-cars and paddy-wagons almost before they realized the jig was up. As the neighbors stared, the house was taken down with ruthless efficiency.

The first man off the basement stairs announced, "there's nothing here!" "Yeah there is," growled Helen, as she dropped her visor. Stepping to her left, she flicked a switch on the wall. The room seemed to shimmer, and then they were standing in a room full of stacks and stacks of crates. Over in the far corner was a row of beds–the crash-space for addicts allowed to use down here. And there were a couple of startled frogs there, staring back at the raiders.

Things slowed down then, as the frogs reached for the blasters at their hips. Nick raised the big .50 he was carrying and let fly, catching the closest one center of mass and spraying the wall with his innards. Helen rushed forward and disarmed the second almost before he realized she was there. The SWAT team lead stood there a moment in stunned surprise. And then he rushed forward to help Helen, who was, just now fighting the frog over his side-arm. The New York cop smacked the frog with his nightstick, dropping him like a sack of potatoes, as Helen wrenched the gun free of his nerveless fingers. Now they were left with the surprise of their lives.

"What the fuck is all this," asked Sargent Barrows? There were dozens of small crates there, all labeled neatly with 'Property of Gen-Term' and 'Pharmaceutical Supplies'. "The answer to a mystery," muttered Nick. "And a pile of questions all rolled into one." Shaking himself, Nick announced, "let's get this place secure. Helen, sweetheart, I'm gonna' need you t'go room by room. We may find more stuff hidden in here."

Up on the New Jersey Turnpike, Mike Stack stood in the chill of a rest-stop parking lot listening to the distant chatter of Alpha Team's communications. Nearby, a New Jersey State Patrol SWAT Team stood waiting. Inspector Graves wasn't thrilled about that. He wanted to hit the truck within city limits. Mike had vetoed the idea. He didn't know who was in the truck, and he didn't want to chance a shootout within city limits. Reaching out to the Jersey police ended up bringing them more evidence, and the Jersey boys ended up being eager to cooperate.

The target truck was on its way after hanging out in the swamps for several hours. "They're coming," announced Mike. "Let's roll." "Roger that," said the lead Jersey trooper. The team mounted up, and drove out onto the highway. The Jersey troopers set up a fake construction zone, complete with narrowing lanes and a few cops directing traffic. The take-down team was riding in Helen's beat-up Astro, looking like just another vehicle caught in the mix.

The suspect truck was obvious for their studious attention to all the relevant traffic laws. It was unheard of for a vehicle in New Jersey to slow for construction. As the trooper flagged the truck down, Mike scanned Fergi's little gadget. "It's them," announced Mike. At his signal, the men working their fake construction site waved the truck over to the side of the road. Mike was expecting them to bolt, and he was surprised as anything when they didn't. The two jokers pulled over and parked, handing over their licenses and registration. As the officer pretended to check them, the take-down team swarmed out of the proto-truk and rushed them. Before either man could respond, they were being pulled from the truck and put on the ground. Mike strolled up to the back of the laundry-van and popped the doors open.

The van was empty.

Irritated, Inspector Graves growled, "dammit, Stack! I thought you said there'd be dope!" Mike was a little irritated himself. "Hang on, Inspector," announced the Jersey trooper. "_Something_ was in here." Reaching in, he wiped his finger across the rusty floor of the van. Bits of saw-dust, streaks of oil, and a pattern of lines looking suspiciously like _crates_ showed the two men had been transporting some kind of cargo. Playing the hunch, the trooper went around to the front of the van were the two amigos stood.

"This one's got warrants," announced one of the troopers. Nodding, the lead trooper asked, "what was in the truck?" "Nothin', man," spat the thug. "He's already under arrest for warrants," said Graves. "Let's see what he's got on him..." The man was pushed up against the truck and his pockets turned out. The cops came up with a packet that looked suspiciously like dope along with one of the alien-altered phones. "Run it," commanded the lead trooper. In short order, he was holding a test kit with an ominous blue glow. "Heroin," he grimly announced.

Turning back to the thug, the cop said, "you can talk, or we can take you in on possession..." The thug spat at his feet. Mike announced, "not so fast, Captain. Possession of alien technology's a Section 83 offense... _I_ own this guy!" Grimly, the Captain told their thug, "this is Mr. Stack. Looks like a pretty ordinary guy, but he's actually... Well let's just say he's not one of us... With the treaty the President signed, we have to extradite you to him now... Hope you enjoy your complimentary butt probe in alien jail..."

That opened the floodgates. The hard-core guy still refused to talk, but his pal started spilling his guts, and they couldn't make him shut up! He told them how he and his buddy made a run once a week to the Meadowlands, hauling crates for the killer frogs. He told of how they were admonished never to ask questions or talk about what they did. The last guy they knew of who'd talked had eaten a bullet and ended up in the Hudson. He'd never looked in the crates, but he'd been inside the building on Lancaster street and seen the people there filling them. He'd been doing this for just six weeks, but his pal had been at it much longer.

The talkative one was MS-13, and he'd been given the choice of dieing or working for the frogs. They'd snatched him in a raid on a MS-13 safe-house, and he'd seen ten guys get wasted in one night. He and the remaining seven had agreed to work for the frogs on the spot. Rolling up his sleeve, he even showed them the strange alien tattoo the frogs had given him. "I just wanna' go home, man," he whined! "I ain't seen my kids and my baby's momma in _eight weeks_, man...! I just wanna' go home!" With a chill smile, Inspector Graves told him, "we can arrange that..." Signaling the troopers, he said, "let's go!"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

They had a pile of strange to work with. Dozens of machines with sophisticated CNC programs on them. Hundreds of men and women who had been held as virtual slaves for weeks and sometimes months. Piles of strange objects. Crates of high-grade drugs labeled as if they had come from high-tech pharmaceutical companies. It was quite a puzzle. Fortunately Mike had a number of resources at his disposal.

The Incursean Empire had moved into a palatial office tower off Wall Street, tearing down the existing structure and putting up a replacement in just six months. Their Empress had been tireless in getting everything set up. Mike and Lucy had both been to dinner with Ben and Attea, and Mike had gotten to know the young woman quite well. Upon hearing of the investigation, Attea had immediately offered her help to the Plumbers to shut Vanos' little scheme down. Now Mike reached out to that lifeline to get a little more information.

Following Mike, carrying a box full of the strange artifacts they'd discovered in the underground factory, Nick Luchini opined, "I don't understand why we came here... What's a diplomat going to tell us?" The ambassador himself answered that question. He was waiting on them in the conference room. "As with your US Marines, every Incursean is a fighting man, Mr...," said the elderly frog. "Luchini," Nick replied, "Nick Luchini." Smiling his froggy smile, the Incursean explained, "we are all taught to understand weapons from an early age." He'd done twenty years before going into politics.

Mike shook the Ambassador's hand, introducing himself as, "Michael Stack, Plumber's Liaison office." "Your reputation proceeds you, Enforcer. I'm Lasson. How may we aid you?" Mike motioned for Nick to show him the goods. Nick emptied the box on the table. The ambassador spent a while examining the objects they had brought. "This is a plasma lense for a Model 20 Plasma Rifle," said he. Putting the object aside, he said, "all these objects are components of the Model 20..." Frowning, Mike asked, "all of these are weapon parts?" The Incursean confirmed that with a nod. "Any of it made of Neodymium," asked Nick? "Neodymium is a component of nearly all of those devices. There is also Beryllium, Ytterbium, and depleted Uranium..." "Is this stuff _hot_," asked Mike? "_Depleted_," said Nick. "Means they took the radioactive part out."

The ambassador asked, "where did you get this?" "Found them in an illegal factory here in the city," replied Mike. "We believe Vanos is behind it..." Nodding, Lasson rumbled, "that's dangerous..." "Why here," asked Nick? "I mean we don't know anythin' about laser-guns..." Lasson gave them a froggy smile and answered, "on the contrary, Enforcer Luchini. Humans are regarded as a very industrious race. Your species is renowned for its facility with machines, and, while you may not understand the physics, your machinists are some of the best in the galaxy." Which Mike took to mean that they were doing low-grade labor on Vanos's project like some third-world country manufacturing screens for iPhones. _Except in this case, we're looking at being invaded or bombed,_ thought Mike. They needed to get this shut down.

"Thank-you for your time, Ambassador," said Mike. "Please inform the Empress that we will be dismantling all the illegal factories..." "Her Majesty thinks quite highly of you, Enforcer," replied the Incursean. "She thanks you for your efforts." Shaking the alien's hand, the two cops got on their way. "Now we know why they need the metals," muttered Nick. Mike nodded. They had had no legal reason to shut down their adversary's trade in precious metal before this. Now they did. He had a phone call to make.

Across town, Lucy walked into a small streetside cafe with Reese in tow. Val was already waiting on her at one of the tables. The two cops walked over and sat down opposite the young scientist. Val opened with, "didn't think I'd see you. You and Mike sure have been busy." Lucy quipped, "shortest vacation in history." Val laughed. More seriously, Lucy introduced her companion, "Val? This is Reese..." Val answered that with, "oh, I met Reese back when she and my brother were dating..." It was only after she said it that she realized she'd stepped in it. Lucy's face froze, and Reese's face went red-hot. Fortunately the waiter arrived to take their orders preventing an ugly scene.

There was a short little dance while the waiter ran down the day's specials. By the time he'd gone to put in their orders, Val had recovered her wits. "So," asked Val, "uh, why'd you two want to see me." Lucy put the bill of lading Nick and Helen found on the table and asked, "ever hear of this company?" Val replied, "I interviewed with them a year ago." Lucy asked, "what do they specialize in? Anything unusual or advanced?" "Tailored delivery," replied Val. "It's the latest breakthrough! You sneak the drug past a cancer cell's defenses. That let's you use less of the drug..." Lucy interrupted her as she gushed about the science, "could it be used to deliver something else?" "I suppose," Val replied. Reese asked, "how many companies are working on this now? In New York...?" "Two or three," answered Val. "I'm working on a project with my boss right now..." Frowning, Lucy said, "let me know if you see or hear anything suspicious..." Clearly a little concerned now, Val asked, "is something wrong...?" Lucy gave her a reassuring smile and said, "nah... Just saw something strange is all."

The waiter brought lunch, and for a few moments the three women ate and talked. Lucy got to hear a little more about what her sister-in-law did. Val asked her what it was like being on TV. Lucy shrugged. After they quit acting like she would suck their brains out for the grins, it was alright. "Ma was thrilled," gushed Val! "She recorded it to show Aunt Edith and Aunt Fran!" Lucy flushed. She didn't really need or _want_ publicity in her line of work! Val opined, "maybe you could get your own TV show..."

"So you're a little green woman," announced a sardonic voice. Lucy glanced over to see an older woman who's teeth and scent said 'chain-smoker'. Lucy replied, "little green _cop_ actually... You are?" "No need to get your panties in a wad," said the old woman. "We don't see celebrities at Max's. I should probably get your autograph..." Indeed several people were watching Lucy now. Lucy had never felt more uncomfortable in her life. All her life, she'd basically gone wherever she wanted and fit right in. She'd always been an anonymous face in the crowd. Now she felt fear for the first time in her life. As if attracted by her fear, a hostile voice growled, "why don't you go back where you came?! We don't need you here!" Incensed, Lucy retorted, "where I came from is Wyoming, so if you don't like my face, you can take a flying fuck at a rolling donut!"

The man stood up and he loomed over Lucy. Reese announced, "you want to go up the river to Sing Sing?" The big man hesitated a moment. Flashing her badge, Reese announced, "you want a case for assaulting a cop? Take one more step." The hostile diner thought about that a moment. While he was thinking, the owner came out and told him to leave.

When the big man had gone, the owner apologized profusely, offering to give them lunch for free. Lucy turned him down. "You didn't threaten me," she replied. "I just want to eat like everyone else, pay my tab, and go." The owner wasn't doing so well that he could afford to give food away, so he thanked her for being so gracious and went back inside. The three women spent the next half-hour trying to find peace again, but peace proved elusive as all three kept looking around in fear, wondering if the angry man would come back. In the end, all three were delighted to get the check.

Lucy paid for lunch, then headed back to the car with Reese in tow. As they walked, Lucy thanked the older woman for backing her up. "Thin blue line, Luce," replied the New York cop. "We need to take care of each other. Alien or not, you and Helen are part of our world." Feeling better, Lucy smiled. When they reached the car, Lucy got behind the wheel and popped the lock. As Reese buckled herself in, she said, "before you jump Mike's ass, we never really dated. He invited me to have dinner with his family. That's all." Lucy glanced over at the other woman and found her looking back with a deadly serious expression. "I sometimes think he'd be better off with somebody without all the baggage," Lucy admitted. Reese laughed, "have you seen the way he looks at you, girl? Totally pussy-whipped..." As the two women howled laughter, Lucy pulled into traffic.

Later that day, Val got back to work after running a few errands of her own. Sitting down in the lab, the young woman eagerly checked the results of the experiment she'd been helping her boss with. The lab assistant–an impressionable younger fellow who was currently a junior at ESU–had just emailed her the report, and Val skimmed the pages, looking for her hoped-for data.

The biochemist frowned at the test report on the screen in front of her. The data she was looking at made no sense. What should have been a tube full of mouse tumor cells instead appeared to be human brain cells. More on point, she'd expected to see the toxic brew that hospitals used in chemo. What she saw was entirely different. The chemical signature wasn't one of the drugs they worked with. Val wasn't sure _what_ it was. One thing was certain.

_Mr. Valley's gonna' _kill_ me, _thought Val. After weeks of work, the experiment was ruined!

She'd missed coming back the day Lucy got jumped by the cops. Between that and graduation, she hadn't gotten back all weekend. The equipment had been working that Monday when she arrived, so she'd assumed she got away with it. Now she was certain something had gone terribly wrong. She was going to be fired. She was sure of it. As Val pondered the possibility of lieing or talking her boss out of canning her, Mr. Valley himself burst into the office with the assistant, Trevor Holt.

The kid seemed to have screwed something up himself as he kept on apologizing and swearing it wouldn't happen again. "Ah, Ms. Stack," said Mr. Valley. "I was hoping I'd catch you before you opened that email..." Val gave him her patented ditzy teenager look. "I tried to call the email back," said Trevor, "but you already opened it..." Val barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Outlook's recall function _never_ worked. Only the clueless didn't know that.

Calmly, Mr. Valley explained, "he mailed you the wrong results... That test was for a confidential customer. Please delete the message now, and please tell no-one about the data. It's for a very important client..." "Sure," said Val. As he watched over her shoulder, she dropped the email in the delete folder. "Thank-you, Ms. Stack," said Mr. Valley as he shook her hand. "Your data's on the common drive in the Results folder." He and their intern walked away, leaving Val alone with her confusion.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

"You sure this is the place," asked the DEA agent? "We're sure," muttered Nick. They'd only been surveilling the place for two days. The reality was that this guy had been giving Helen and Lucy the eye since he and his guys showed up. They made him nervous. For Nick, the feeling was mutual. He trusted Lucy, and he'd come to rely on Helen. He didn't trust the Feds. No local cop ever did. They were outsiders with their own agenda. Fortunately this time that played to the NYPD's needs. With a mole in the ranks, using one of their own SWAT teams was risky. They didn't need Rillec finding out that they now knew his smack was 'Imported from New York'.

_Speaking of which,_ thought Nick as he turned to look at Helen. Helen looked up from Fergi's gadget and announced, "no frogs." "Ok," said Agent Peters. "Let's do this." Now the vehicles started moving, pulling out of the parking lot where they'd staged.

Nick held on tight as the Chevy Suburban wove its way through the late-afternoon traffic toward Gen-Term's office in Brooklyn. His hand stroked the big .50 at his hip. The DEA guys' eyes had gotten big when they saw that. Nick refused to be drawn when asked what the hell he needed _that_ for. Beside him, Lucy was in the zone. She had one of those crazy multi-weapons like Helen, and she'd come dressed to kill in the same armored jump-suit. Meanwhile Helen was still monitoring the frogs' comm channels. Today there was only one altered phone even in the area, and she thought it belonged to Gen-Term's president.

Gen-Term had been laundering money. There was a lot of churn in their corporate bank accounts traceable to offshore accounts in Africa. Supposedly they were being paid for research on some of Africa's peculiar regional maladies. But the money kept coming, and the countries in question could barely feed their people.

The plan was simple. Nick was going to move in and shut down building security. The DEA would move in after and start securing the building. Lucy and Helen were headed straight for the top floor to find that phone and whoever was holding it. They needed to have a little chat.

The fellow who manned the desk at Gen-Term's front door was typical of the breed. Portly and bored out of his mind by endless hours staring at computer monitors, he rarely did anything particularly daring and never moved quickly. In fact, he didn't even notice the convoy that pulled up outside. Nick dismounted first, strolling up quickly and getting the door open. Absorbed in a chat-session on his phone, the guard didn't notice until Nick's badge was in his face.

Nick cuffed the fat man's hands behind his back, then motioned for his cohorts. Within moments, the lobby was filled with SWAT personnel. "Spot us two minutes," said Helen as she and Lucy headed for the stairs. Their target was sixty floors up. Nick checked his watch and began waiting. The lead DEA agent called the fire department to let them know not to show up for the impending false alarm.

Helen went speeding up the stairs, Lucy following along behind her. Using the ability of the proto-suit to stretch with her, the Lenopan woman extended her body to its limits, hauling herself up eight floors at a time. In just moments, the two reached the top floor. Weapons ready, the two stepped out into Gen-Terms' offices as the fire alarms began to ring. With 9/11 still fresh on the minds of many, there was a rush for the stairs. Standing off to the side, Helen continued to monitor the scanner for sign of their quarry. Nodding at a youngish fellow headed for the elevator, Helen took off. Stretching herself over the stream of fleeing humans, Lucy followed.

Bart Cass was not the sort of fellow who followed rules. He typically thought of rules as being for other people–men and women who didn't have the guts to go out and make their own. It was the way of thinking that had put him at the head of a major corporation at the ripe old age of thirty. It was characteristic of him that he didn't believe in taking the stairs, fire or no fire. The scofflaw was prepared for the voices behind him calling out to him. They always did that. Every fire-drill there was somebody who shouted at him for taking the elevator–at least until someone else warned them off. Bart didn't like to be corrected.

Bart kept right on walking. He was the CEO, after all. Who was going to say he couldn't? A glance back told him that things weren't quite what they seemed. The blue-skinned woman and the stretchy _thing_ coming after him sent a chill down his spine. His new business partner had warned him of interference. Fearful of capture, the rogue pharmaceutical mogul accelerated, sprinting for the elevator bank. If he could reach his private elevator, he could get away!

Just as Bart Cass reached the elevators, one of them opened, disgorging a dozen heavily armed men wearing bad-attitudes and flak-jackets festooned with the word 'Police' Their leader shouted, "get on the ground! Get on the ground!" Bart threw up his hands in terror as a death-dot appeared on his forehead. Catching up, Lucy and Helen announced, "good work, Agent Peters." In short order, the DEA was in possession of Gen-Term's corporate offices, lock, stock, and barrel.

Across town, Valerie Stack was in the midst of doing something she knew she probably shouldn't be doing. Curiosity had gotten the better of her–that and suspicion. Her boss was another idiot who didn't really understand how computers worked. He just used them. Valerie had been tinkering with them since she was a teenager. She'd learned early on that the little recycle-bin folder on her computer didn't magically annihilate information when she used it. The data was still there, floating around on the computer somewhere.

After making sure that Mr. Valley was nowhere in sight, she'd gone and opened the deleted folder in Outlook, finding the giant message she'd been sent was still floating around in there. Deftly, she moved it to an innocuous folder where she kept internet jokes and website links that people sent her. Now, with nobody around, she began to dig into the test document in question.

It wasn't _easy_ to understand. She wasn't familiar with the compound in question, and she really didn't understand what the effects were that they were describing. A little googling on her phone helped with those issues though. Working her way down through the document in question, the young woman began to get the disturbing impression that her boss was up to something that might be illegal.

As she perused that _confidential_ document, Val found herself glancing over her shoulder now and again. In cubicle land, there really wasn't any privacy, and you never knew who might come strolling by on their way to the bathroom or break area. The more she read, the deeper she got, and the more afraid she became. Mr. Valley's research seemed to be focused on delivering narcotics to the brain in a more efficient manner, and there even seemed to be a little work being done to tailor the shape of the molecules to be more effective. Worse, when Val finally decided to look up the chemical formula Valley was testing, she found it was more akin to Heroin than any of the legal pain-killers the company worked with.

Terrified, Val realized that she needed to see her brothers. She needed to talk to them about this. She wasn't sure if what Valley was doing was legal, and, with the way he was acting, she wasn't sure she wanted to ask _him_ about it. He could easily do her in and make it look like an accident. Convinced now, the young biochemist closed the file, shut off Outlook for good measure, and locked her computer.

As she was gathering up her purse, she looked up and found Mr. Valley there. "Hello, Ms. Stack," said the older man. He was wearing an oily smile that looked sinister to Val. "In the interests of security," said Mr. Valley, "the IT team's going to wipe that file from the servers, but they wanted to come down and make sure it was gone from your computer too. Do you mind if they do that?" "N-no," stammered Val. "'Course not... Just business..." "Thank-you," said he. He stepped aside, and Val slipped out of her cubicle.

Creeped out, Val quickly made her way to the elevators and headed for the first floor. She wanted out of here. If she could make the subway without trouble, she could get home. Behind her, she left a man in turmoil. He'd seen the little bitch on the security monitor looking at something and checking over her shoulder over and over again. That wasn't something that Valerie Stack did. Little miss goody-two-shoes rarely did anything more sinister than looking at off-color jokes on the internet. So why was she looking over her shoulder? There was just one reason in his mind. The fact that she was now rushing to get out the door suggested that he was right. She'd read the file, and now she had some idea what he was doing. Given her family background, that meant she now had to be silenced. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out the modified phone he'd been given and dialed.

Val knew the day was headed south when the bus she usually caught to reach the subway was out of service. She'd forgotten all about the sign she'd seen the previous day. Now she had to schlep down six blocks in the cold. Glancing over her shoulder, she started walking.

Reaching the subway after a long walk in the cold, Val was a little disturbed to see four men there wearing their gang affiliations like a flag. They were there at the subway entrance, and they were looking for somebody. Shivering in fear, Val pulled out her phone and called Mike. Almost immediately her big brother picked up. "Hey, Val," said Mike. "Is it important? I'm kinda busy..." "I think my boss is cooking dope in our labs," replied Valerie. "Now there's a buncha' gang bangers at the subway entrance..."

Mike had heard about what Lucy had learned from his sister. Now he feared Val was in the middle of something very dangerous. "Sit tight, Val," said Mike. "I'm sending somebody..." Val didn't answer. One of the men went from checking his phone to staring straight at her. Mike heard shouts. Then running feet. Then silence.

Lucy was in the middle of interrogating one of Gen Term's top minds when her comlink chirped. Drawing it out, she flicked it on, announcing, "go..." "Luce," replied Mike? "Val's in trouble. I think Rillec's infiltrated her place too. Need you to g'down there..." "On it," said Lucy. Leaving Nick in charge, the two raced down the stairs. Grabbing the nearest car, the two flicked on lights and siren and took off in a cloud of tire-smoke.

Val had been a star of her highschool track team once upon a time, and she still kept in shape, running every morning before work. Now she put that to use, sprinting down the street away from the trio of gangsters who were in hot-pursuit. The three young men hurled curses as they chased her. Val was certain now that her boss was up to no good. She just prayed she could survive this.

The car the the three had arrived in skidded to a stop at the end of the street, cutting her off. Val darted into an alley to get away. The thugs ran in after her, chasing her through filth. Val feared they would catch her. They were gaining, and they had a car. Huffing and puffing, Val raced to the end of the alley, praying like never before. Prayers turned to curses as she tripped over a rut in the alley and went down. The gangbangers closed for the kill.

As Val scrambled away from them, a voice from down the alley shouted, "police! On the ground!" Val glanced down the alley to find a cop standing there with his hand on his gun. To her horror, one of her assailants drew a pistol and shot the cop in one smooth motion. The cop was astonished to feel pain. His vest had been penetrated! Val screamed as her rescuer went down. "Get the bitch, yo," shouted the shooter! He strode forward to finish off the cop.

Before he could, Lucy and Helen raced into the alley. Leveling their proto-tools, the two lit into the gangsters, laying out the three of them. Helen rushed to the fallen cop as Lucy went to Val. "He's alive," Helen announced! "Get him to the truk," said Lucy. She helped Val get up and hobble to where the proto-truk waited at the end of the alley.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

Nick's old Staten-Island neighborhood was the stuff of legends. Home to half-a-hundred famous gangsters from they heyday of the Mob, the place had an old-time charm to it that immediately attracted Helen's interest. _So this is where you grew up, huh,_ thought the hybrid. Nick was telling her about some of the things he'd done in this old neighborhood–everything from opening hydrants in the summer to playing stickball, to endless games of cops and robbers.

As he talked, Helen got a feel for the world that had raised him, and honestly, she liked him more. He wasn't rich. He wasn't powerful, but he was really just the sort of nice man that a woman needed. Right now, Helen was very much in need of a man. It was rough seeing Mike and Lucy every day. They were good friends of hers, but it was painful seeing them so in love when she was so miserable. At the same time, she was a little bit nervous about the way this was going. Usually you invited women you were dating to your parents' place. She'd just met Nick.

"Are you sure this is ok,"she asked? "I don't want to impose..." "For the last time," growled Nick, "I bring friends by all the time." Nick eased his beater car into a parking spot. He was thrifty, living in a cheap third-floor walkup and driving a heap to save cash. Manny blew money every way he could find to blow it. It was a defining part of their relationship, one that had caused many of their fights over the years. In a lot of ways, Nick Luchini was a different man than her ex, and Helen found herself subconsciously comparing the two. "C'mon," said Nick as he shut the car off.

His mother was waiting on them as they exited the car and headed for the stairs. Helen was conscious of the way Nick's mother stared at her as she approached. "Evenin', ma," boomed Nick as he embraced his momma. She was the stereotypical plump Italian woman with a round face and rosy red cheeks. "Who's your friend, Nick," asked Helena Luchini? "I thought you were bringing Becca..." "Nah," said Nick. "We broke up, ma..." Helen could see the disappointment in the older woman's eyes. She imagined _Becca_ was pretty and conventional in every sense of the word.

"Ma," said Nick, "I'd like you to meet Helen Wheels. She works with me on that case I told you about. Helen? Meet Helena Luchini. Her friends call her Saint Helena because she raised four rowdy boys and one girl." His mother blushed, as she invited them in. Afraid of what she was up against, Helen went with trepidation.

Inside the house was typical New England row-house–plaster walls, parlor in front, formal dining room in the middle, with kitchen out back. Off the entry, a grand staircase climbed to the second and third floor. The house, in spite of age, was in good shape, looking well-cared for. Nick took Helen's coat and hung it up in the hall closet next to his heavy patrolman's jacket. Then he led the way into the parlor where an older version of Nick sat reading the New York Daily News. His eyes immediately flicked up to Helen's. Helen gave him a sweet smile.

"Nicky," rumbled the older man, "who's the girl?" "Pops," announced Nick, "this is Helen. She works with me on that case I told you about... Helen, this is my old man, Dave Luchini." "You don't look like you're from around here," remarked Nick's dad..." Helen staved off the inevitable question, answering that charge with, "born in Bellwood, California, with the birth-certificate to prove it..." At his dad's questioning look, Nick winked and said, "she gets that a lot..." "I'll bet," agreed his father. Nick motioned for her to have a seat on the couch. Leaving her there, he headed out back to chat with his mom.

"So you're a cop," announced Dave. Helen replied, "yeah. Pays the bills." "Federal," asked Dave? "Intergalactic," replied Helen. "Like that girl on TV," said Dave! Helen nodded. "Pay good," asked the elder Luchini? "Ok, I guess," replied Helen. She didn't really dwell on it. The older man announced, "my son. He's been livin' in a dump for a couple of years..." Helen flushed at that damning condemnation of her partner. From what she could tell, Nick was _frugal_, and she said so. "There's frugal, and there's cheap, girlie," replied the older man. "My son's gettin' too close to the second..."

In the kitchen, Nick soaked in the wonderful smells, and felt the bite of his hungry stomach as the juices started to flow. Unlike the run of modern youth, Nick was a frequent visitor at his parents' place. His friends called him a momma's boy, but the reality was that he was taking outrageous advantage. His ambition was to have a nice apartment in a modern building, and he wouldn't get there if he ate out all the time. Visits with mom and dad filled his stomach three nights a week and got him free laundry as opposed to the insane six bucks a load where he lived.

His mother immediately started in on him in Italian. She most often did that when she had something to say about his friends that she was too polite to say to their faces. Unsurprisingly today it was about Helen. "Aw, ma, she's a nice person," said Nick. "She was abducted and some guy did that to her. Cut her some slack. She's been through a lot." Helena Luchini asked the burning question, "are you dating her?" "_Ma_," complained Nick. "I don't try to date every girl I see! Helen's my partner!" Helena nodded, but she didn't look like she believed that. She was known for saying men couldn't be friends with women without trying to get in their pants.

Done with the cooking, Helena went out and announced dinner was ready. The foursome gathered around the cramped kitchen table and dug in. Helen was a little uncomfortable after having to deflect Nick's father from his suggestions that his son lived like a bum. Nick, oblivious to that, talked freely about all he'd seen. He was excited and delighted to talk about raiding the alien trap-house. He talked about meeting the frog ambassador and all the things he had learned. Shockingly for Helen, he couldn't say enough about his new partner.

His praise felt good to a mind and heart that was used to being a _freak_. She felt her face go warm as Nick told his parents about how instrumental she'd been on the raid. Nick's dad actually pat her on the back, telling her she was welcome any time. Helena was a little more reserved, but she thanked the little woman for coming. After helping Nick clear the table, Helen was anxious to scoot. Against all odds, things had gone well. She wanted to escape before the evening changed course.

Instead, Nick began washing dishes, leaving Helen at the tender mercy of his parents in the parlor. It was an interesting experience, with David Luchini asking about her work and suggesting maybe his son could do better with the Plumbers. Nick's mom was far more interested in what Helen thought of Nick, leaving the hybrid wondering where she was going with that. Could she _sense _Helen's attraction to her son? Of course Helen thought the world of Nick. He was intelligent, charming, funny, and thrifty. On top of that, he'd been a gentleman in every sense of the word, being far kinder to her than she'd seen in a while.

"My husband here thinks he's cheap," grumbled Helena! The alien-girl laughed and admitted, "my former boyfriend could have learned from your son... He almost got kicked out of his place for missing the rent." It was one of Manny's endless excuses for why they couldn't get married. He felt he didn't make enough money. The reality was that he spent every dime he got on stupid things. "So you dumped this loser," asked Helena? Helen blushed as Nick's dad tried to stop his wife prying into Helen's life. Face gone dark, Helen admitted, "he dumped me... He... doesn't want to get married..." "There's plenty of good men out there," said Helena. "You'll find somebody..." Having said that, Helena excused herself and got up to go see what was keeping Nick.

While her husband apologized for her meddling, Helena cornered her son in the kitchen. "Did you know she's single," whispered Helena? As he stacked the pots, Nick allowed that he did. He'd finally pried it out of her after asking why she got crabby every time Mike showed Lucy any affection. "Well, have you asked her out," demanded Helena? Nick nearly dropped the pot he was holding. He did manage to bang it on the counter. Taking the pot from him, his mother opined, "she's a little odd, Nicky, but she's a good catch..." And she proceeded to lay out all the good qualities she'd observed in his little friend. In her mind, Helen Wheels was far better than Rebecca Hanson. She knew how to save her pennies, and, from the sound of things, she worked hard. She was perfect wife material.

This wasn't the first time she'd gotten this way. Nick's mom was very old-school, and she was almost incensed that Nicky was the only one of her kids who wasn't married. His younger brother had already gotten hitched, straight out of high-school. It really didn't seem to matter to her that Nick had plans of his own. A man was supposed to find a good woman, put a ring on her finger, and settle down. It drove him up the wall, and he wanted to scream at her. "Ma," growled Nick. "She's my _partner_!"

Helena Luchini acted as if she didn't even _hear_ those words. "Make her some espresso," she commanded. "You can go up on the roof for a while. It's not really that cold..." Meaning he was supposed to take Helen upstairs and put the moves on her. Counting to ten, Nick conjured up all the patience he possessed, while his mother laid out two coffee cups and turned on the coffee machine. In a scant ten minutes, Nick found himself walking out on the roof with his partner of one week, shaking his head and muttering curses under his breath.

His dad had built a deck on the roof of his home, complete with floating walkway, tables, chairs, and a couple of umbrellas–currently folded for the season. It was the sort of thing that would have struck Helen as a little bit loopy. In California, there was always a beach or park to go to if you wanted a picnic. Having landed in this concrete jungle, she'd come to realize that not everyone was as blessed as she was to have all the space they wanted. She found their patio to be cute, and the view was stunning.

Oblivious to all the kitchen politics, Helen stared out at the distant New York City skyline and whistled. It was quite a view. Behind her, Nick found himself checking out the view of her butt–poured into a pair of skin-tight Levis. _Shit, she's got a nice ass,_ he thought. She'd admitted she had the jeans tailored to her body, and he had to admit the effect was stunning. Shaking himself, he glanced away from the sight of Helen's wiggling bottom.

"Well," announced Helen, "that went well..." She sounded far more relaxed than when they arrived. Nick chuckled. Handing her a cup of coffee, he said, "we're Italians! We been kicked out of everywhere! How are we supposed to complain about _you_?!" Helen blushed. Grinning back at him, she said, "thanks for inviting me..." Nick shrugged that off, "you're my partner, Helen." Sipping up scalding hot espresso, he added, "and you're a good friend..." Helen's blush deepened. She couldn't really help noticing that her _partner_ was a really good looking guy in the Mediterranean mode, with olive skin and dark hair. She could tell he liked her, and she found herself tempted to pull a Lucy and try seducing him. Only trouble was Helen wasn't Lucy. She didn't have Maxim cover-girl looks.

Turning to face the distant New York skyline, she found herself reflecting on that. She was what she was, and, short of finding a way to reverse the transformation, she was always going to be this way. Was she really going to live her life as a _freak_? Lucy was just as much out of place as she was, and she was using everything she had to her advantage. Far from being embarrassed or ashamed of being an alien on planet Earth, Lucy was proud to hail from nowhere Wyoming, to barbecue on the 4th of July, and to tell anyone who asked that she was Lenopan-American–as American as any of her neighbors.

_So maybe I do need to change,_ thought Helen. Glancing at Nick, who stood next to her, she sat on one of the Luchinis' rooftop benches and patted the seat next to her. Nick stood there a moment, wondering if they weren't straying off the reservation. Deciding that it was an innocent request, he sat down beside her. Softly, she said, "thanks for taking a risk on me... This is the first time I've ever met somebody's parents." Nick glanced at her with a frown on his face. Grinning, Helen said, "Manny doesn't have any parents either. I guess... It was kind of easy for us." She made him a little nervous with that line, and he wondered if his mother had been hitting her up with a little desperation charity–date my son, and you can spend time with us. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Casually, Helen reached over and ran the tip of her index finger across the back of his hand. Nick shivered, and he felt his face go hot. He tried a joke on her, "ah, you'd have probably fit right in. He's a freak, too, remember? You're in more danger here. If you were _Italian_, ma would have been all over you..." He made fun of his momma, quoting some of her more outrageous comments towards women she encountered while mocking a female voice.

He had Helen in stitches. The little woman howled laughter, and she almost spilled coffee all over herself as she laughed at his mother's endless attempts to fix him up with somebody. Wiping at her eyes, she chuckled, "she's really serious about getting you married, isn't she?" Chuckling himself, Nick nodded. He put up with it. That was what family was about, wasn't it? He didn't doubt that Lucy got her own dose of shit from her parents when she was in East Buttfuck, Wyoming. Smiling at his friend, Nick said, "so if you want crap about why you're screwed up, you're welcome t'drop in on my parents anytime." Laughing, Helen retorted, "I just might do that."

Finished with the coffee, Helen announced, "we should probably be going." They had to get into the office in the morning and start the process of running down the leads they had on their mole. The sooner they got rid of her, the sooner they could step things up and tighten the noose on Mr. Rillec and his goons. As it was, they'd had rogue gangsters sniffing around the safe-houses where some of their pet shot-callers were hiding out.

Nick took his friend downstairs, where they handed over the cups and said their goodbyes. Helena Luchini insisted on hugging the little woman, and she invited Helen Wheels to stop in whenever she wanted. Dave Luchini shook Helen's hand, seeming only a little disconcerted by the strangeness of her missing fingers. Nick drove his friend back to the hotel where she was crashing currently, keeping up a steady chatter the whole way, telling her about all the places there were to eat and visit in the city, and suggesting that he could take her to some of them if they found the time.

Helen listened to his words feeling a surge of confidence. Nick liked her, and she thought she really could make something out of that. While stopped at a light, she surreptitiously checked herself in the passenger-side mirror. She was disconcerted to realize that she'd sort of let herself go. She had chapped lips, mild hat-head, and, after a day of climbing through moldy and filthy abandoned buildings on a frog hunt, she was dirty. Deciding against making a play now, Helen planned to go all out in the morning. When Nick dropped her at her hotel, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then practically bounced out of the car. Shaking his head and wondering at the madness that was the female, Nick drove off, headed for home.

Morning found Helen sitting at the desk she shared with Nick, going over the last details of their plan. Today was the day they went out to trap a rat, and Helen was looking forward to it. As she worked to put the finishing touches on the scheme, the sound of the door opening announced Nick's arrival. "Morning," announced Nick as he came strolling up to the desk he shared with the strange alien woman who'd fallen into his life. Helen Wheels smiled up at him, showing perfect teeth framed by deep-purple lips. Nick did a doubletake. Was Helen wearing lipstick? That wasn't the only change. She'd fixed her hair, and she looked kind of cute. She was even showing a little skin, with her jumpsuit unzipped down between her perky little boobies. The change was dramatic, and Nick found himself staring.

"What's that," asked Helen? She was smiling when she said it–as if she _knew_ the effect she was having on him. Nick set the cupholder down on the desk between them. "You got my favorite," squealed Helen! "Figured since I was goin' by Starbucks...," said the New York cop. Coffee was Helen's one true weakness. It was a joke around the station. As if she wasn't fucking wired enough, she swilled coffee like a fish. Resting her chin on her hand, Helen said, "thanks, Nick. That was sweet of you." The way she said that. It did things to him. Shaking off his fog, Nick Luchini sat down in front of her, and asked, "Mike see the plan...?"

Helen took a sip of her coffee, finding that it was just the way she liked it. He remembered. It said something about his interest that he remembered how she took her coffee. Manny had never gotten it right, and she couldn't remember the last time her former boyfriend bothered surprising her with even a cup of coffee. As she set the coffee cup down, Nick couldn't help noticing that his guess was correct. She'd left a perfect lipstick ring on the cup. His eyes were glued to that cup, as she answered, "not yet. Was waiting for you. Ready?" "I am so ready," mumbled Nick. Then, face hot, he realized what he'd just said. "Uh, yeah," stammered the New York cop. "Let's do it... I mean let's go see the man..."

Helen was out of her seat faster than Nick's eye could follow, and he found himself playing catch-up. Knowing he was behind her, the little woman put an extra sway in her step, her sinuous tail twitching, which drew his eye down to the swell of her butt in that skin-tight jumpsuit. Nick was all but drooling as he finally got to his feet and began to follow. He now wanted to fuck Helen Wheels in the worst way.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

"Alarmed, officer," announced Fergi.

It was the fifth apartment on the list. They were all young, single women who worked the administrative side of the NYPD. None had close family in town, and most were loners, lacking even a close friend who might have dropped in to check on them. There were twenty-three in total. The two cops, acting on Helen's authority as a Plumber to enter the apartments on suspicion of illegal alien activity, were working their way down the chain, checking up on them.

The first four were leading pretty normal lives, living on the edge of town to make the most out of their NYPD salaries. They were future cat-ladies and current-day spinsters, and a couple of them might have been closet lesbians. None of them stood out until now.

"The last two places were alarmed," rumbled Nick. "You disabled the alarms without even mentioning it." Fergi answered that charge with, "those were primitive terrestrial security systems. This is Sotoragian technology." "Jackpot," rumbled Helen. "Scoot back t'the car, Fergi," said Nick. "We got this." After disabling the alarm system, the little alien woman flitted off on her jet-pack, wafting back down to Helen's van.

Helen used the proto-tool to open the window, then slipped inside. Nick brought up the rear, weapon at the ready. "Police," announced the New York cop! "Anybody in here?!" A very weak voice from the bedroom replied, "I'm here! Please! Help me!" The two cops knew better than to rush. Sonja Tremont was supposed to be at work on her shift right now. Their sludge-puppy spy should be there right now, but you never knew. Their spy might have had a partner.

Calling out to the voice in response, they slowly made their way back into the bedroom, keeping their eyes peeled for boobytraps. Step by painful step, they crept up on the closet–source of the voice–weapons at the ready. The room was a bit of a mess. Indeed, the whole apartment was. Whoever kept house here was a bit of a slob, and that didn't match the psych-profile they had on Ms. Tremont. Nick had a good feeling about this. This was the one. _Found it in five,_ he thought, as they came up on the closet.

Concerned about terrifying an already overwrought mind, Helen did the honors of opening the door, and Nick shined his weapon-light inside, finding a thin, emaciated young woman who looked like she'd been laying in her own filth for _months_. Her eyes were wide and staring, and she flinched away from the light. "Sonja Tremont," asked Nick? "She... she took my face," moaned the woman. Standing beside him in the open doorway, Helen said, "she's dehydrated, Nick. Needs water badly."

Without even a word, Helen zipped into the kitchen, returning minutes later with a couple of glasses of water. Nick knelt down at the young woman's side and helped her drink. "It's gonna' be ok," whispered Nick. "Y-you don't understand," moaned Sonja Tremont. "She's... She looks like _me_, now! She's... I think she's some kind of monster! Like out of that movie, the Thing! She's... I think she's been going into work as me!" "We know," announced Helen. "We're going to get her... Just be calm." The woman took one look at the source of that soothing voice and shrieked in terror.

"S'ok," announced Nick. "This is my counterpart, Helen. She's... She's a fellow cop. She's here t'help." Helen tried on a smile. Sonja didn't look very convinced, even when Helen flashed her Plumber's badge and ID card. Still, she was cooperative with Nick. Helen got out of the way, and let Nick carry the water as Sonja Tremont told him all about what had happened to her.

She'd been here for nearly five months. She'd ordered Chinese late one night and been sitting on the couch waiting for it, when there was a knock at the door. She'd gotten up with her wallet, assuming it was the driver from the restaurant. When she opened the door, the woman on the far side–a petite little blonde–had shoved her way inside. Sonja had had a very brief scuffle with her attacker before the creature revealed itself.

Nick could hear Helen calling for an ambulance. Much as the victim needed medical treatment, he was a little queasy about that. With the mole embedded in the NYPD, he wasn't sure she didn't have access to the dispatch system. It was too late now, though. Drawing his handcuff key, Nick unlocked the young woman's wrists, freeing her from the lead pipe she'd been shackled to in the closet. Then he picked her up and carried her out to the van outside.

With a little water in her, Sonja was more lucid, and she stared around her in amazement, especially when she caught sight of Fergi. "Who are you people," she asked? "I'm NYPD," explained Nick. "This is Fergi and Helen... They're here to track down the person that did this to you." "Are they," stammered Sonja? "Yes, human," replied Fergi in a deadpan voice. She was having fun at Sonja's expense, and she announced, "the fugitive is wanted for the crime of performing illegal anal-probes on lower life forms..." Helen couldn't help it. She howled laughter at Sonja Tremont's expression.

Irritated, Nick growled, "why don't you two call this in and check on that ambulance?!" The two headed up the street a ways, still laughing. "Everybody's a fuckin' comedian," grumbled Nick. Moving on, he started debriefing the victim. As they talked, the young woman slowly calmed down. She had an eye and memory for detail, and she was able to supply him with an array of information about their mole. By the time the ambulance arrived, Nick had a good idea where they would find their Sonja impersonator.

The paramedics were almost as interested in the two aliens as the patient, and Nick cussed them too. As the two ambulance attendants lifted Sonja into the ambulance, Nick promised her she'd be alright. As the ambulance rolled away, Helen and Fergi returned looking only barely contrite. Nick sort of realized then that they were just like his buddies. "She'll be alright," Helen offered. "I'm not sore," said Nick. "Actually when she heard you two laughing, she calmed down." Helen nodded. That was kind of the point.

Moving on, the alien-girl reported, "Mike's headed for Internal Affairs with the Alphas..." At his frown, she explained, "one of her coworkers believes she's carrying on an affair with a senior officer there." "Meaning she's got access to everything IA knows," groaned Nick, as he grabbed his hair! It was all flavors of not good. They needed to stop this bird ASAP! "Mike's got it," said Helen. "He wants us to comb through Ms. Tremont's place to see what's there." It was a tall order for a man who wanted to be in on a big bust. Softening the blow some, Helen took off that ugly helmet and stowed it in the van. Shaking out her hair, she gave him a sweet smile and said, "c'mon..."

Leaving Fergi with the truck, Nick followed Helen's wiggling butt back upstairs while across town, Mike Stack led a heavily armed team of Plumbers into the IA offices. At his side walked a very worried Inspector Davis. "What am I lookin' at," asked the NYC cop? "Need you to slowly clear the building," replied Mike. "Our fugitive has superhuman strength and access to alien tech, including weapons. She can mimic the appearance of anyone she touches, and she can acquire recent memories straight out of their brains..."

Davis turned pale as a ghost. "We're here to handle her," announced Molly. "Just get your people out safely..." "Roger that," said Davis as he accelerated. Mike and the Alphas stopped where they were and waited. They were the backstop. The other half of Molly's team was already on the roof, headed down. As Molly and her team watched, men and women came out of the stairwells and elevators in streams. Molly immediately brought out a scanner, and she searched the streams of people for the tell-tale signature of a Lenopan.

Upstairs, 'Sonja Tremont' had noticed that the building was slowly emptying itself. She'd just returned from retrieving coffee for her 'boyfriend', who was fat and ugly even by Lenopan standards. Captain Anthony Tucker was an ass who really thought he was something special, and 'Sonja' had fed that ego, telling him whatever he wanted to hear. She made sure he thought he was good in the sack, and she made sure he believed she wanted him. In exchange, when he'd gone to sleep on her right after the event, Sonja got access to his laptop, phone, and network ID. Icing on the cake was the fact that he was so anxious to impress her, that he would tell her confidential information that a girl from parking enforcement should have no knowledge of.

It was the perfect setup. He'd funneled all sorts of useful tidbits to his 'girlfriend', and Sonja had picked up even more using his email, passwords, and phone. When the weeks turned into months, she'd gotten bolder, even using her own access to the NYPD's computers to zero in on bits of information that were useful for her clients. It was a good gig–one which she'd been careful to keep going as long as she could. Now, as she approached Tucker's office, she found signs that somebody else was working to terminate her employment with New York's finest.

"There's an emergency in the building," announced Anthony. "We need to leave, Sonja..." Sonja put the coffee down a moment. "What's going on," she asked? "Hell if I know," retorted the old blowhard. "I was sitting at my desk when the alert flashed across my screen. Could be a bomb-threat." He started moving towards her. Catching hold of her shoulder, he tried to turn her towards the stairwell. "Lemme get my purse," said the impostor. "Ain't got time," growled Tucker. When she saw him put his hand on his gun, she knew the truth. She'd been made.

Before Anthony Tucker's eyes, the Lenopan woman burst out of Sonja Tremont's clothes, leaving shreds there as she grew to nearly twice his height in the middle of his office. Staring at the sight of the woman he'd had sex with turning into a gelatinous sludge-monster with demonic red eyes, Anthony Tucker pissed himself. He hadn't a hope of getting his service-pistol out of its holster before she killed him, and he feared it wouldn't matter anyway.

Dropping to his knees, he whined, "please don't kill me." Hands outstretched and empty, the IA officer told her, "I didn't know! I swear I didn't know! Please don't kill me!" "Are there Plumbers downstairs," demanded Sonja? Which puzzled him. He didn't know what she was talking about. "Are they here for me," she demanded? Tucker nodded emphatically.

She thought about killing this pathetic sot. There was plenty of blood on her hands already, and he knew rather a lot about her. At the same time, he was pathetic and scarcely worth the bother. In truth, the idea of him kneeling there in a puddle of his own waste made her laugh. Without a further word, 'Sonja' turned and rushed for the stairwell door, leaving the hapless fool there, staring after her in terror.

The shapeshifter rushed down the stairs, taking them as only a Lenopan could–almost seeming to _flow_ from landing to landing. She couldn't go out the front. They'd be waiting there. She couldn't go up to the roof either. She'd left her comlink upstairs with her purse and other junk. Noise from above her told the tale. They had a team up on the roof working their way down. She was trapped like a rat.

_Almost,_ thought 'Sonja'.

She began to rush down the stairs much faster now, risking a fall and certain injury. She had to reach the sub-basement. If she could make the sub-basement, she had an exit–one which only the maintenance people would have suspected.

The Plumbers rushed onto the floor where Anthony Tucker's office lay with weapons ready. They moved in coordinated fashion, leap-frogging from position to position to stay under cover. Rushing into the bay where the Captain and his subordinates did business, they found the man himself kneeling on the carpet, shaking and shivering, looking like he was ready to shit his pants.

_Correction,_ thought Rook Shar. It appeared that Tucker had already done that. As the alien lawman approached, she scanned the human just to be sure. _No sludge-puppy,_ thought Shar. She had her helmet on and visor down so as not to scare the locals, and she called out, "where is the blond woman? Where is Sonja Tremont?"

The terrified cop looked up at the spacesuited man coming towards him, and he realized that this was his savior. He found it hard to make the words come out. "Sh-she went down the stairs...," he stammered. "You were supposed to leave and let us deal with her," growled Shar! Tucker had wanted the glory of bringing her in himself. Shar could see it in his eyes. "Dumbass," muttered the alien, using one of the colloquialisms she'd learned from Ben. The human cop flinched from that damning condemnation. "Down the stairs," growled Shar, as she headed for the stairwell.

Down at the bottom of that stairwell, the sludge-puppy slipped out into the hall wearing the shape of a pretty little blonde–with not a stitch of clothing on. She found a pair of elderly janitors down there. One had his nose buried in a car-magazine and a set of headphones blaring into his ear. The other was asleep. It was apparent they'd missed the alarm. _Perfect,_ thought the shape-shifter.

She came strolling down the hallway, looking like something the two might have dreamt of. Neither man really looked up until she was standing next to them. The man listening to the headphones looked up, and his mouth came open in surprise. Before he could half register just what he was looking at, the alien drove her hand into his temple, killing him. As the corpse floundered on the floor, she killed the other one.

Working quickly, the alien woman stripped the smaller of the two men of his shoes and coveralls. The steam-tunnel wasn't hard to find, and 'Sonja' used the janitors' key to get inside. Hauling the two corpses into the steam tunnel to hide the evidence, she locked the door behind her and strode off into the darkness beyond.

Shar and her men exited the stairwell on the bottom-floor with no sludge-puppy to show for their efforts. Molly and Mike immediately smelled a rat. "She was here," agreed Shar. "Found the mark upstairs on his knees. I think he lost control of his stomach when she revealed herself." "He alive," asked Mike? "Yes," replied the Plumber. "I think when he heard what he had been dealing with, he thought he would try and bring her in himself." Mike rolled his eyes, announcing, "dumbass!" Which was more or less what Shar said.

"She hit the stairwell and went straight down," said the alien cop. "She should have come out here." Mike frowned at the floor a moment as he thought that through, while Molly started grilling her team about what they'd seen and the possibility the mole went out one of the other floors. "Locked," replied Shar. "They are escape routes, remember? The only way back through the doors is with a tool..." She'd used her proto-tool to open the door on the target floor. If the target had busted the lock on one of those floors, they would have seen it. "She went to the basement," rumbled Mike, and he had a pretty good hunch why. "C'mon," said he, as he stepped off.

The Alphas fell in behind him as he went trooping into the stairwell. They followed him down and down and down some more. It felt rather like going into Plumber HQ when the elevator was out. Weapons at the ready, the team stepped off the stairs in the sub-basement. The place was dimly lit, and it was clear that almost nobody came down here. Pushing Mike to the rear, Shar led the way as the Alphas slowly cleared the area, working their way through pipes and ducting, and checking in disused storage rooms. In the end, they came up with nothing. There was nobody down here. It was like the perp had vanished.

Now Mike pushed his way forward again. It was time for some old-fashioned police-work. There was a mop bucket down here–full of muddy, _filthy_ water, with a mop stuck in it. Squatting down next to it, Mike looked at the filthy tile floor and then the wall. There were two chairs down here–stolen from an upstairs conference room. "She killed the janitor," announced Mike. "Probably for his master key." The Alphas stared at him in shock. "H-how," stammered Shar. "Old-fashioned police-work, Shar," replied Mike. "There's medium-velocity blood-spatter here..." It was right where he'd expect it if someone had been sitting in the chair and been hit in the head.

Rising, Mike said, "she tried to clean it up... hide the evidence." Stepping off, he followed the trail she'd left with that filthy mop, all the way up to an almost-hidden door behind a massive pipe manifold. "Steam-pipes," said Mike. "Where do they go," asked Molly? "Out under the street," sighed Mike. She'd gotten away. They'd lost her. Unwilling to let go so easily, Shar said, "we can chase her..." "Not in those tunnels, we don't," replied Mike. "That's high-pressure steam. Even if your armor can survive a bath in it, I've seen what happens when that steam's released. It'd blow the roof off the tunnel and maybe hurt somebody on the surface." "Damn," muttered Molly's assistant team-lead. "We'll get her, guys," said Mike. "Right now, let's get back upstairs and report in."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17:

"So where do we stand," asked the Commissioner? He was upset about losing the mole, but he was glad to have her gone. "We went through Ms. Tremont's computer," explained Mike. "She had thousands of confidential files. As near as we can tell, she was steering the frogs to places the NYPD felt had been cleared of trafficking, and alerting them to warrants that were about to be served. She was also phoning in tips on the gang-bangers early on, telling our guys about trap houses and smuggling to damage the opposition..." "...letting our Incursean friends move in unopposed," rumbled the commissioner. She'd done a lot of damage.

"Right now, we've got surveillance on potential new targets," said Mike, but with her cover blown she won't be able to do this again. Not for a long time..." Which got them in the clear for a while. Frank Williams decided they would have to step up their force-integrity effort. Moving on, he asked, "anything we can use in the pile?" Nodding, Mike replied, "we've got a line on a dozen former factories that have recently seen a lot of activity. We're also leaning on the Gen-Term management and the clown at St. Austel." They had intercepted a metric ton of rare earths destined for the frogs' secret factories. All told, they had put quite a dent in Rillec's operations.

"This is good news, detective," Frank declared! "Now I feel like we're making progress. Keep the pressure on. Let me know if there's anything you need." Mike thought about that. Turning to Nick, he took the rather formidable sidearm he was carrying off his shoulder and laid it on the table in front of the Commissioner. "This has been proven to penetrate their light armor," said Mike. "I'd like a SWAT team armed with these to help prosecute warrants for these locations." "Done," said the Commissioner. "I'll get them by end of week if I have to go out of pocket!"

That was that. Nick was still disappointed, but Mike had made his peace with the escape of the mole. Turning to Nick, he said, "that was great police-work..." Nick grinned and said, "fellas want to buy our honorary Inspector a 40." Mike knew better than to accept, but he also knew the team needed the morale boost. "You can buy me a Dr. Pepper," said Mike as he motioned for Nick to head out.

Molly's team was having a feast, courtesy of the Magister. Mike gathered his detectives together, grabbed one of the vans, and headed out to Sonny Green's Irish Pub. The ten cops settled in at a couple of corner tables and placed orders, at which point, the four females promptly decamped to the toilet.

"It's crazy how that crosses species boundaries," announced Tim. Mike laughed. Joe said, "ain't that the truth." He hadn't realized they even made makeup for blue skin. Nick grinned at that. Helen was kind of cute with her hair down. Tom opined, "only started doin' it the last few days. Been wondering what changed." Tim said, "boyfriend dumped her. Figure she's gettin' back on the horse..."

"Huh," said Tom. "She's on the make. But who's she chasing?" Every face there swivelled to Nick, who looked completely oblivious. When he finally looked up, he answered those looks with, "beats the heck out of me. Maybe some guy she seen at the hotel..." Tim rolled his eyes. The man was clueless. "I dunno," said Tom. "I'd have guessed the guy who took her t'see his parents..." Nick looked up from his beer in startled fear.

"No way," he howled! Glancing at Mike, Tom said, "happened to him." Nick stammered excuses. They were coworkers. They spent a lot of time together figuring out how to trap the mole. Of course those pronouncements just dug the hole deeper. Men and women who spent a lot of time together often got cozy, and Helen _was_ part human Before his officers could get to shouting, Mike headed the conversation off at the pass, announcing, "Helen's personal life is her business, fellas. She's had a hard time lately. I'd kind of like to let her alone..." The others promised not to stick their noses in it.

Tim opined, "not her I'd hit anyway." Everybody there insisted that, in lieu of the already-engaged Lucy, it was _Molly_ they wanted to bang. The pretty blonde, with her germanic looks and cool disposition was like a juicy plum hanging on a tree–sweet and unattainable. She made perfect fantasy material. Mike knew she was already dating somebody, but he let the fellows speculate to their heart's content, though he made sure they had wrapped things up when he saw the girls coming back.

Lucy and the girls had had their own conversation in the restroom. Everybody was congratulating Lucy on hooking Mike Stack and getting him to propose. For Lucy it had been more or less a foregone conclusion when they got on the plane to head east. She'd suspected Mike was planning something when one of her rings had turned up missing and then suddenly reappeared. She'd guessed it was a sneaky way for him to get her ring size without alerting her that he was planning to propose.

Reese of course wanted to know just how Lucy had managed it. She wouldn't have guessed Mike for the type. Molly had all but laughed in her face. Lucy and Mike had _enviable_ chemistry. It had been there from the start. The moment Mike had laid eyes on Lucy, he was locked on her like a missile on the target. Molly was far more interested in Helen, who hadn't been seen in casual clothing in more than a year, much less wearing makeup.

Embarrassed, Helen Wheels retorted, "can't I dress up a little? I'm... I guess I'm celebrating Manny being out of my life." Lucy opined, "I'd gladly celebrate that too." She didn't like Manny. He was kind of a dick, and both Molly and Lucy thought Helen could do much better.

Upon their return to the tables, Helen immediately occupied the seat to Nick's right, and Lucy couldn't help a grin. She had her suspicions on just why it was that Helen was suddenly feminine again. Sharing a grin with Molly, Lucy announced, "miss us?" Mike smoothly replied, "like the desert misses water, babe." Lucy sat on his left, grabbed his arm, and put it around her waist.

The fellows thought he was some kind of pussy-whipped, turning down good beer because his girlfriend said so, but Reese thought he was wise beyond his years. Why start down that road and find himself losing the person he cared most about? And if he was pussy-whipped, the feeling was definitely mutual. Lucy was stuck to him like glue. "So what're you two gonna' do when this is over," asked Joe?

"Get home," replied Mike. "Check in. We missed vacation, so we might wrangle another trip. My folks want to meet Lucy's parents..." That brought everyone's mind around to the television interview, and Reese asked Lucy, "how's that going? Is everything ok back home?" Lucy admitted, "there's been a bunch of reporters come through wanting to interview people. The state's sent people by, but the county sheriff's been really supportive. The first few days, he put up a roadblock and only townsfolk were allowed in and out. He's talked to the town council a few times about stationing a deputy there just in case." The only real trouble they'd had was their most recent arrivals, a human couple who decided that they really couldn't stand the idea of living amongst aliens. They'd run out of there in the middle of the night, leaving just about everything behind. Now they wanted to sue. As if it was anyone's fault but their own.

Food arrived, and the bunch of them dug in. A curious Tim asked, "so what happens when the frogs come back?" Puzzled, Tom gave him a frown. They were planning to arrest the frogs. Rolling his eyes, Joe tousled Tom's hair, "rookie! Fuentes missed a couple lessons..." Tom blushed to his hair as Nick explained, "gangland's all busted up here, kid. With so much changed, there's a power vacuum just waiting f'er somebody to move in. Frogs could go subtle next time. If they hadn't acted like dicks, snatching old ladies off the street to sort parts and boys to hump drugs, we would never have noticed."

Crime abhorred a vacuum. _Somebody_ would step in, and with the precedent established, it could easily be another pack of aliens. There was nothing really stopping them. "The old man's gonna' have to open more stations," said Mike. "It's that simple. He can't do it all from Bellwood." Tim opined, "_you_ could come back. I bet Williams would make you an Inspector." Mike blushed, and his eyes flicked to Lucy. It was clear to Reese that, for Mike, everything came down to Lucy. He wasn't your typical man, expecting his wife to sacrifice everything for him. Mike brushed all the talk aside, announcing that it was premature. The frogs were down but not out.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

The door blew inward on the old sheet-metal shop, admitting dozens of heavily armed BATFE agents. The Federal SWAT team advanced into the factory by the numbers, using bounding overwatch. Screams of terror and cries of joy rang out as the Feds worked their way through. The gangsters, knowing their fates, variously stood their ground and died, or surrendered on the spot.

Mike Stack sat in the operations truck, listening as the raid went down. His face was a study in worry as the raid went down. Lucy had been in there for days, hiding in plain sight as the frogs pushed to deliver their next big shipment. "She'll be ok," murmured Shar. The Revonnahgander's voice was calm and soothing–exactly the way a cop _should_ be at a moment like this. Mike was having a little trouble with that because the love of his life was in that factory somewhere, and he knew there wasn't enough counseling in the world to save him if he lost her.

Inside, the Feds traded shots with the hardcore men who'd done murder in the name of Vanos Mydral. The sounds of gunfire in the confined space sent people scurrying for cover, creating a targeting problem as the thugs kept on shooting in spite of the fleeing hostages. "Stay down," shouted the lead Fed! "Stay down!" It was a hard job for some angry young men who'd been treated to a diet of abuse the last few months. Some grabbed weapons for themselves and opened fire on their tormentors. Others grabbed onto the men who'd betrayed them and began to beat them mercilessly. In the chaos and confusion, a lone woman slipped away.

She was tall and pretty, with deep ebony skin, sparkling brown eyes, and a beautiful smile. She'd been there several days, and a couple of the more notorious guards had been giving her the eye. She'd been very careful never to be caught alone with any of them. Now, as bedlam reigned in the old factory, the beautiful woman took a pistol from a negligent guard, choking him out until he went unconscious.

She'd seen something very interesting in the old factory. An Asian man had been in the building, snooping around and getting a guided tour from the bad men who ran the place. That was very dangerous, and the lady wanted to make sure the gentleman knew it. She knew the ins and outs of the building. She'd made sure to spend a fair bit of time learning her way around. The careless guards only concern was that nobody get out the doors or windows. They did very little to stop the people from wandering when their shifts were done. In point of fact, none of the terrified 'workers' really wanted to.

Now the young woman exploited those late night travels to make her way swiftly and silently up through the factory and out to the former administrative wing. The place had been picked clean long ago, emptied of most of the functional furniture and cleaned out of all the technology the old machine-shop used to churn out axle-parts. Now the only thing inside was dust-bunnies, fallen light fixtures and ceiling tiles, and the quarters of the man who ran this place for the frogs.

The place was empty of men when Lucille Mann came creeping in. The rats had quickly abandoned the sinking ship upon hearing the gunfire. Now she moved much more quickly, following the trail of the rats through the filth that had caked up in the building. She trailed them all the way down the back stairs that let out near the river. Voices alerted her as she got closer. They were running scared. There was a patrol boat on the river, courtesy of the NYPD.

"They won't shoot," offered one voice! "We go out without guns, they won't shoot!" "They're gonna' know we're with the frogs, man," retorted another voice! "They shoot cop-killers...!" And these men were cop-killers by association. What mercy were _they _going to get? A third voice, calmer, growled, "shut the fuck up, both of you! I need to think!" _Three,_ thought the Plumber. She could take three, but she wondered where her Asian was.

They were getting desperate. Desperation could work in her favor. Stepping around the corner, Lucy announced, "police! Freeze!" She'd always wanted to say that! She found herself dealing with six men. One Hispanic, three blacks, and two Asians. One of the men's eyes got big as he recognized the pretty woman he'd been hassling. "Fuckin', bitch," he growled! "Shoulda' known!" Lucy gave him a sweet smile. As the four men watched, she dropped her disguise, saying, "you're in a great deal of trouble. Save me the effort, and drop 'em..." "Rubber-face," rumbled the lead gangster. Lucy smiled. Guy-check hadn't worked _this_ time.

The twitching of the man on the right alerted her. The two Asians didn't want to go down like this, and she wasn't sure it was a good idea to shoot the two of them. As the younger of the two attacked, she shot the Hispanic and one of the black men. And then she was disarmed, as the Asian man hit her in the wrist hard enough to numb her fingers. _Here come more bruises,_ thought Lucy. She'd been thinking of having a nice reunion with Mike tonight and having some fun between the sheets afterwards. The blows to the ribs and thigh she received put paid to that ambition.

Then she was in the fight of her life as the Asian tried to slap a mean hurt on her, leveling crippling blows with his fists and feet. He was rather surprised that she didn't go down. A human would have been finished in seconds. The other men ran like hell, taking the chance to shed themselves of weapons and anything else incriminating. Hand-to-hand combat wasn't really her thing, but Lucy had advantages on her side. Forming her hands into bone-blades, she slashed her foe's arms to ribbons, sending him back-pedaling. "You're not going to get away," said Lucy. "I don't know why you're here or what you're doing, but we'll have your faces posted at every point of entry within an hour."

The older man seemed to consider that. As his companion assessed his wounds, he came to a decision. Reaching into a pocket–Lucy came close to cutting his throat when he did that–he drew out his wallet and flipped it open. _Chinese diplomat,_ groaned Lucy. _Great._ "Alright," growled the Plumber. "Start marching. Don't give me any trouble, and you'll be out of here in an hour."

She marched the two back to the main factory building, where she found the SWAT-team had things in hand. Shocked faces greeted her arrival. She understood it because she felt it. "Chinese Diplomat," muttered Lucy. "I'm thinking I'll hand him over to you..." The leader of the Fed SWAT-team nodded, his face a study in shock. This was getting much worse. They needed to shut Rillec down and fast.

Turning away from the head Fed, Lucy found her fiancé standing there waiting on her. The handsome man strode up, snatched Lucy off her feet, and hugged her tight. He was about to kiss her when she yelped in pain. "You alright, baby," asked Mike? His heart was in his eyes. Tears were in Lucy's. "Fucking guy kicked me in the ribs," muttered Lucy. "And my leg." "Let's get you looked at," said Mike. Lucy replied, "two guys made it out the back near the river." "We got them," said Shar. "Go to the medic, already." She was picking up a New-York accent. Nodding, Lucy went limping across the room, with Mike helping her along.

"What happened," asked her lover? "His bodyguard tried to kick my ass," muttered Lucy. They knew what was at stake. Neither of them wanted to be caught in this place. It was perfectly clear what they were up to. Just as clearly, the Plumbers and NYPD would both have to let them skate. "I had to shoot two of the perps. They're dead." It was her or them, and Mike was delighted she'd chosen 'her'. Knowing that her race did have vulnerabilities, Mike had admonished her never to play that game–not that Lucy was really interested in being shot up.

Mike walked her over to the Plumber's van that he'd arrived in and got her seated in the doorway. As he blocked the view, Lucy got out of her shirt. Mike pulled her arm up over her head. "Not bad right now," said he. Reaching past her, he got the medical kit out and drew the scanner. Running it along her ribs, he said, "nothing broken, but lots of bruising. Again." Lucy sighed, and her eyes told him just what she was thinking. Squatting down in front of her, he drew her face to his and kissed those sweet lips. "I love you, baby," said he. "We ain't gonna' be in this town doing this forever..." "I'm fucking frustrated," grumbled Lucy! "You haven't touched me in three weeks!" She went on a tear, ranting and raving about what she would have done to Rillec and Vanos both. Mike let her vent a while. Then, putting the scanner away, he helped her get her shirt back on.

"How did we make out," she asked, nodding at the string of ambulances. "Mostly the dummies who wouldn't surrender," said Mike. A couple of the men who'd thought to help had gotten perforated too, but they had managed not to kill any of the civilians in spite of all the flying lead. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. That was better than she'd dared hope. "Shar's going over the machines," said Mike. He'd had to promise the BATFE an opportunity to watch the gun parts be destroyed to get their help. He couldn't let them take them, in spite of what they wanted, but they were satisfied. Once the scene was clear, Shar would use a small EMP device to scramble all the milling machines, guaranteeing that nobody would be getting anything out of them.

"How're the others making out," asked Lucy? They had a lot going on. There were raids going on at twelve different locations across the boroughs of New York, on Long Island, on Staten Island, and even across the Hudson in Jersey City. They had SWAT-teams from the NYPD, New York State Police, BATFE, DEA, and the New Jersey State Police all hitting targets at once. Molly had half her team riding along with the take-down teams. The other half was in reserve, just in case Rillec and his boys came out to play.

"Fergi's gizmo worked like a champ," said Mike. They had been able to verify the absence of frogs at all of the locations before sending in the teams. Things had gone off without a hitch. They hadn't even had any gunfire until they hit this factory. _Figures this place would be pretty heavily guarded, though,_ thought Mike. This was the core of Vanos's scheme. Everything was focused on this place. Without this factory, the whole business came to a screeching halt.

Cheering from the entry got Mike's attention. He turned to find the first of the victims coming out. They would have to debrief these people, which might take days. There had been over three-hundred people in that place being held against their will and forced to work seventeen hour days. Some were sick. Some were starving. All were just happy to be alive. One woman was heard to opine that she hadn't really known what slavery was until now.

Striding forward, Mike caught up with the BATFE officers escorting them. "We need to take them and debrief them," said he. Lucy added, "and we're going to want to have some of them looked at. They were smelting toxic metals in there without adequate ventilation. Some of these people may have heavy-metal poisoning."

The pre-dawn raids took just over an hour to wrap up. All the paperwork and other business took far longer. Mike, Lucy, and their team found themselves still in the stationhouse as the clock on the wall clicked over to ten o'clock. Since they were all stuck, Mike sent out for pizza, and the entire crew sat around working their way through a couple dozen pies, while they filed their reports, bullshitted, and got work done. "Hey," said Nick, who was feeling boisterous, "let's put the news on!" He wanted to hear about himself, but nobody could really blame him. Molly did the honors, tuning the TV to CNN where the topic of the day was _them_. It was all about _them_. "Shit," laughed Tim! "Never thought I'd make CNN!" Not in a good way anyway.

The news was mostly positive. Williams and the Mayor had nothing but good things to say about them. Both were delighted at the outcome. After that, they had a statement from the governor's office. He too had praise for both local law enforcement and the Plumbers. He also had a message for Magister Tennyson. He wanted the Plumbers to take steps to insure that this never happened again. Shar was a little nervous to see herself on the primitive entertainment device. It was technically against regulations for a Plumber to appear on a broadcast here on Earth. "Better get used to it, Shar," said Mike. "I don't think the old man can hide in the basement anymore." The Revonnahgander nodded grimly.

After the segment ended, there were a stream of pundits, putting their own spin on the whole business with some being rather insistent that this meant the world governments now had to bow to the UN to have a hope of saving the planet and others just as insistent that the US go it alone. Somewhere in the middle there was a segment on the Incurseans. Mike and Lucy were both astonished to realize that Attea and Ben had both been in town without them even knowing it. Attea had met with the UN Security Council, the US Secretary of State, and the Governor of New York. She'd even addressed the UN.

Attea had come rocking a formal Incursean gown, and she wore her hair up in a formal style that looked surprisingly attractive in spite of being almost militaristic. "She doesn't look half bad," admitted Joe. Nodding, Tim opined, "I'd hit that." Nick's thoughts were on her words. Apparently the President of the US had just signed a treaty with the Incursean Empire agreeing to provide large amounts of food to the Empire. In exchange, the Incursean Empire had expanded the existing non-aggression treaty to formal relations. Nick wasn't sure he liked that. They had spent the last three weeks making sure they didn't let Vanos pull them into the Incursean Civil War. Now they had signed a treaty with the other side. The stakes were scary-high from Nick's perspective.

"Penny for your thoughts...," murmured Helen. Nick glanced up to find her smiling face there in front of him. It was grey lipstick today, glossy and slick, and it made her lips look sooo kissable. She'd disappeared into the women's locker-room for a while, and now she sported grey mascara, giving her that sexy 'smoky-eye' look. Face gone hot, Nick replied, "not sure it was good for the President to sign us up with these guys..." Helen nodded. It _was_ dangerous. She hadn't really given it much thought. She wasn't nearly as invested in the US as a home–not like Lucy. She didn't have family here to worry about. She could see the risks though.

Taking his hand, she gave it a squeeze, saying, "it'll be ok, Nick. Magister Tennyson sat through the Cold War, watching the US and Russia come close to wrecking the world. Humanity isn't as dumb as we like to think it is." Nick smiled back at her. The touch of those rough fingers did things to him. _Do it,_ Lucy silently urged. The two of them looked like they were ready to kiss. _C'mon, you lummox,_ thought Lucy. _Ask her out!_ The moment passed, though. Helen drew back her hand, and the two returned to watching the broadcast.

"So that's Ben Ten," said Reese. "Yeah," said Lucy. "That's my cousin." "You're _related_ to him," asked Joe?! Nodding, Lucy said, "by marriage. My cousin's married to his cousin. Met him at her wedding." Grinning at Mike, she admitted, "had a thing for him once upon a time. If he hadn't met Attea, I might have gotten my mitts on him." She was happy with what she had, though. Mike leaned over and kissed her cheek. He had nothing to fear from Ben.

Across town, their adversaries were also watching the broadcast. "Nasty bitch," growled Rillec, as he stared at the primitive video machine. He had come to a hatred of Attea Myrdral, not least because it was her regime that had taken his freedom. He didn't think much of her interbreeding with the vermin on this planet, and he despised the direction she was taking the Empire. He had hoped to get himself back into the army under Vanos–to once again hold the status of warrior instead of being a mere enforcer dealing with the dregs of society.

It had been a delight for the former soldier to use the skills he'd learned enforcing the Empire's laws to thwart the laws of this primitive world. He had delighted in sowing death amongst the creatures he so despised. The fact that he was undermining Attea Myrdral's rule was just sweet-slime for his snails. They had been making fabulous progress, shipping ten-thousand kits to be built up into weapons in just six cycles for only a very little coin. The operation had been built on a shoe-string and born tremendous fruit.

Unfortunately now the operation was in tremendous jeopardy. They had lost nearly everything. The city enforcers had targeted the sale-houses and arrested all of the slaves. That had let the Plumbers lay hands on his factory. Production was now shut down. He didn't even have the milling machines anymore. It was millions in local currency straight down the drain. Worse, with the Federal Enforcers involved, he couldn't simply slip away to one of the other big cities to set up a similar operation. They would be looking for him. Turning to his executive officer, Rillec asked, "what is the state of our efforts in Montreal?"

Bobik replied, "our scout is on the ground, and he's made some contacts. There is a significant population of displaced and disaffected that we can exploit as well. In addition, much of the territory of Canada is wilderness with only tribal savages for population and a history of superstition that can be exploited." Insistently, Darga, the tech, demanded, "their technology? We need more of those milling machines..." Bobik replied, "equal to the United States. More to the point, they have no real military and an underequipped enforcement arm. They are unlikely to be suspicious of the metals shipment. If we can avoid attracting attention, we can operate for years."

Rillec turned to Darga and asked, "how did we make out with the nano-particle delivery system?" Darga replied, "I got sufficient data before the researchers were arrested. We can proceed." Rillec smiled. They were still in this. Their nano-robots, coupled with the enhanced drug delivery scheme would give them a way to build an army of slaves to work in their weapon factories. Eventually, as the nanites and the craving were passed on, mother to child, it would let them enslave the entire human race!


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19:

Val was a bit surprised to find Lucy waiting up on her when she got out of bed. Usually Lucy and Mike were long gone when she rolled out of the sack and showered. They left early and came home late, and neither Val nor Silvia had really seen either in days. Val was a little worried about the both of them, wondering if they were alright–especially after hearing that Lucy was going under cover again. She'd kept her mouth shut on what had happened the first time, when she'd been found out, leaving her mother and aunts blissfully ignorant.

Now, as she came strolling into the kitchen after a night of fun, she found Lucy sitting in her mother's chair along with a pretty brunette who looked to be in her forties. "Morning, Val," announced Lucy. "Lucy," Val yawned. "Who's y'er friend?" "This is Betty," said Lucy. "The one human doctor on planet Earth who knows anything about aliens..." The beautiful doctor gave the young woman a warm smile.

Val helped herself to a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove, and came over and sat herself. The doctor's keen brown eyes fixed hers, and she said, "I understand you're a biochemist..." Yawning, Val nodded. She wasn't sure why these two were here. Right now she was an out-of-work biochemist. St. Austel's business license was suspended, the board of directors was under investigation, and the offices were locked while an army of DEA agents picked through the records. It was only because she was the person to blow the whistle that Val wasn't sitting under the hot lights of a police interview room herself.

Leaning forward, Betty Rush explained, "I've been called in as a special consultant by the Plumbers, Ms. Stack. I'm given to understand that the altered drugs being sold by the Incurseans may have come from your former employer..." Val nodded. "Those drugs have properties that make them highly addictive," said Betty. "Right now we have hundreds of victims who are more or less permanently addicted to heroin, and there may be properties of the drug that we don't understand... That's where you come in..."

They had Val's complete and undivided attention now. Betty said, "I'm a doctor by education, Ms. Stack..." "Call me Val," replied Val. "Well, Val," said Betty. "My credentials don't include biotechnology. I need someone to advise me who has some clue what went into making this poison. I have the research notes from Gen-Term, but I've got nothing else." She needed someone who could interpret those notes and the results.

Val was floored. Her eyes flicked to Lucy. Grinning, the pretty blonde announced, "welcome to my world, Val." Val put out her tongue at Lucy. Turning back to Lucy's guest, Val said, "well... I don't have a job, right now..." "I'm still working the deal with the Feds," said Betty, "but I think I can pay you a competitive salary." "Wow," murmured Val. "Not even an interview..." Betty gave her a sweet smile. Rising, Lucy said, "well... I have a briefing to attend. Later." And she headed out the door, bound for the ugly van that the neighbors had been complaining about.

The trip through NYC rush-hour traffic was about as miserable as could be. With no Mike on board to make the process pleasant, Lucy found herself very tempted to cheat and fly herself to their base. Of course shortly after, she'd get chewed out–like the time Ben used Jetray to get to school on time. Max Tennyson was relaxed about most things, but attracting attention wasn't one of them. As she rode along, a Chevy Cruze sedan followed her, mirroring her every move.

Ordinarily, Lucy would have been concerned about that–even paranoid. That was what it was like to be Lenopan on planet Earth. You were careful of the people around you. It just might be your life. With so much pulling at her–and the cat out of the bag besides–Lucy's mind was literally two-thousand miles away, where the Census Bureau was re-interviewing the population of Copper-Springs.

So far nobody had been making noises about deportation or anything else. One of the local Indian Tribes had even come to their defense, raising a stink at the Wyoming State-House when someone suggested legal action for more than a century of falsified birth-certificates. They had a deal in place now. All Lenopan would be issued new birth-certificates in exchange for their false ones. Like Jesus, the .gov was offering forgiveness so long as they sinned no more.

Of course there were still changes in the offing. The younger generation–always antsy and hungry for new vistas–was now bucking the system. Many were talking about going away to college–and not just to the U of Wyoming. One of Lucy's old neighbors was talking about joining the Marines. A lot of the town elders were now a little irritated. They had had things more or less how they wanted. Their world was _quiet_. Lucy had turned that life on its head.

As Lucy pulled up to the station, the Chevy drove on by, turning into a parking lot up the street. The Plumber went inside to find the briefing well underway. They had the NYPD's top SWAT-team, newly chipped and cleared for duty along with the BATFE team and their own people. The Feds had even borrowed Interceptor plate armor from the Army. All totaled, they were locked and loaded and as ready to take on the frogs as they were ever going to be.

Lucy came in and sat down in the back, as Mike explained exactly what they needed to do and when. They had been unable to crack any of the gangsters who had been to Rillec's hideout. Those boys had all been older thugs, men who had topped out in their gang's hierarchy. They were the most evil. They were men–and one woman–who would sell their mothers for power. Fortunately, Driba had come through.

The little genius had paid a visit to Verizon's facilities in the dark of night to do some Galvan-style detective work. Using tools of his own design, he'd traced the illicit traffic on their network, isolating the principle source on the Hudson-River waterfront. A little snooping by Lucy had pinned down the frogs' location to an old waterfront factory and warehouse. Now it was time to finish this before they had any other countries in the Big Apple looking to buy alien tech on the down-low.

The plan was simple, but it was one Lucy didn't really like. Mike was going to lead a SWAT team in the front doors–drawing the frogs' local hires away from their inner sanctum. Molly and the Alphas would strike from below the pier, hitting the frogs when the humans were out of the way. Lucy now understood Mike a little better. _Make that a _lot_ better,_ thought Lucy. The idea that he would be in danger of being shot... _hurt_. It was a feeling she found hard to describe. All she really knew was that there were a hundred ways for this to go wrong–a hundred ways for Mike to die–and she came close to being a wreck just thinking about it. _So_ don't _think,_ thought Lucy. _React. Just _do_ it._

Wrapping up his pitch, Mike asked for questions. Wise-ass to the last, Nick asked if he was buying after the raid. "Better believe it," replied Mike. "Ok, everybody. Remember to get sleep. We got cots laid out. We're moving at sundown..." The other cops trickled out, leaving Lucy alone at the back of the room. Mike spent a little while gathering up his papers.

As he worked, he was conscious of the eyes of his wife. He thought of her that way now, and he knew she was worried. He knew it and understood it. He'd been struggling with it himself the last few weeks as Lucy went into one crazy situation after another. He now understood why the Army wasn't keen on fraternization, and why they even separated close siblings. He'd found himself trying to change the way a cop did business just to shield Lucy from the risks she faced.

That was about as crazy as the thought of alien frogs humping heroin in the Big Apple would have been. Lucy was an undercover cop, born and bred. She wasn't a beat-cop. She wasn't a homicide detective. She was born to go sneaking into these nasty little gangs to destroy them from the inside. And Mike? He was built to kick down doors and throw down with people too stupid to turn themselves in when they were caught. They were fooling themselves if they thought that was ever going to change. So now Mike had come to a decision.

Gathering up the last of his things, he walked down the aisle to where his lady sat. Taking hold of the seat in front of her, he turned it around and sat down. "How'd it go with Val," he asked? "Dropped her in Betty's lap," replied Lucy. "When I left, they were talking salary." Grinning, Mike nodded. The mood was thick on his lady, and he could almost see tears in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Mike said, "babe... I have to apologize again for shouting at you a few weeks back..." "I thought we said no more apologies," sniffed Lucy. She didn't like to be reminded of that incident. They'd both done damage to their relationship, and they'd come close to breaking up. Softly, Mike said, "I guess... I guess I had an epiphany..." Frowning now, Lucy said, "go on..." "I don't think either of us is ready to really see what the other one does for a living," sighed Mike. Lucy's face went hot, and she glanced away.

Taking her hands in his, Mike said, "I'm going to recommend the Old Man don't pair us up, baby. I get crazy when I see you go out there... put yourself out there... and I know you feel the same about me." Lucy broke down and threw herself on him. As Mike held her, she blubbered all over his shoulder. Leaning back, the alien girl wiped tears away with the back of her hand, but her face was hard. "No," said she. Mike didn't understand, and he tried to explain why he thought they should stop.

"I heard you the first time, Mike," growled Lucy. Jabbing a finger into his chest, she said, "I was stupid getting into a van with a bunch of people I didn't know and couldn't trust. I was reckless putting another officer at risk, and I didn't think about my _husband_ or my family. What if... God, what if we had kids, Mike? How can that work if we have kids of our own? You did the right thing stopping me from being an idiot. It was time I grew up anyway."

Mike blushed to his hair, but Lucy wasn't done. Not by half. Tugging on his chin, she said, "and you're now done being the man holding the shield or carrying the battering ram. It was sweet the way you did that, trying to protect guys who had families, but now it's time for some new guy who hasn't got a wife and kids to take that spot. It's time we both stopped being kids."

Mike blushed as he realized what she was trying to tell him. She'd said at the start that you sacrificed some of what made you tick for the person you loved. Now it was his turn to sacrifice. Nodding, he tried a smile on her. Tugging at his cheek, she sniffed, "as if I'd ever give up the best partner I ever had!" Mike reached out, drew her into his arms and hugged the stuffing out of her. In spite of the bruises, Lucy was elated. They'd needed to have that talk. They were cops. There was always a risk with what they did, but that didn't mean they had to be fools about it.

Rising, the two headed back to work. Mike had a report to deliver to the Magister, and Lucy had a little work to do on a program of instruction for the NYPD. The next infiltrator was going to have a very hard time of it here. There were a dozen different ways to catch a Lenopan, and she was going to clue New York's finest in on as many as she could before she left.

Outside in the squad area, Lucy found Nick practically hovering over Helen as the two went over floor-plans for the frogs' hideout. They were rather cozy, and Lucy wondered if either really realized just how close they had gotten. Helen was wearing green mascara today in a subtle shade that seemed to shift with the light, and Nick's eyes were locked on her face. Lucy couldn't understand why the idiot wasn't making a move. Helen was right there, open and waiting._ You_ know _the answer,_ thought the young officer. Nick Luchini was falling in love with a _freak_, and he was having trouble processing that.

It didn't help at all that Helen really looked at _herself_ as a freak. It colored the way she met everyday life. She spent most of her time in a proto-suit. She rarely spoke to anybody outside the Plumbers, and she likely wouldn't have kept an apartment outside of their base if the Magister would let her sleep there off duty. She behaved like a freak, so people took her that way.

On top of that, the wench had the nerve to actually be old-fashioned, believing that the guy should approach the girl. That meant that she wasn't going to lift a finger to land Nick Luchini beyond dressing up a little. Lucy wished she dared give the fool a nudge, but she knew better than to interfere. She could only hope and pray to whatever higher powers there were that he would get off the dime and _move_. Moving past the two of them, she went to her own desk and got busy.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20:

Bort didn't think much of the shapechanger. He hadn't been all that excited to be working with one when they'd come to this place, and, in spite of all the intelligence it had brought them, his opinion hadn't changed very much. Much of that was the shapechanger's ability to _be_ anyone. In a world built on rigid, military discipline, such creatures were an unwelcome distraction with the ability to become a very destructive disruption if they chose to be.

Of course Vwilona Vester felt much the same as Bort. She didn't like the frogs and never had. A frog had stiffed her uncle on a job out near the outer rim of the galaxy, leaving him high and dry and facing some very hard time. It had taken some hefty bribes to buy her uncle out of that jam, and the family was still paying the bills on that one. Vwilona had taken this job to help out, swallowing her pride and distaste for these creatures. Now she was bitterly regretting that.

Her cover here was burned. All the Plumbers had to do was search their records back through a couple of months to find the visiting Lenopan. From there, it would just take a quick search of the records to find her DNA signature, and then she would catch hell getting off the planet. The official port at Bellwood would be searching for her. Her only hope now was stowing away or hanging tough with these guys until the heat died down or she could catch a ride off this rock with one of their courier ships.

"I've got a passport," said Vwilona. "I can leave for Canada any time you'd like." The humans wouldn't be scanning her to find out if she was a Lenopan or not. They lacked the tech, and very few of them knew her kind existed. The only risk was the bastards who were here working with the city cops. If she could get out of New York City, she could slip across the border with ease.

Scratching at his chin-whiskers, Rillec rumbled, "three more days. I need to draw things down here." He had to go through his string of slaves, choose out the most reliable, and get rid f the rest. He couldn't afford to leave anything to chance. There could be no-one left here to answer questions and reveal where he had taken his men. He needed to siphon all the cash he'd accumulated out of the hidden accounts and move it, and he needed a place to hide their ship. They would have to make the journey at low altitudes to avoid detection by the Plumbers' surveillance systems. He had a great deal of planning to do.

Vwilona wasn't excited about that request. In her mind, she didn't _have_ three more days. None of them did. They were on borrowed time already. The Plumbers weren't sitting on their asses _waiting_. They were making moves. She was very much afraid that they would have bulletins out to every local police department in the country. They were no longer in hiding. The world knew they existed, so why not? It would go a long way towards making their position tenable. If they once came up with some way to track a Lenopan that they could share with the local yokels on this mudball, she was a goner.

_Don't ever take another job with frogs again,_ she thought. It was a mistake to take this job. She'd argued it with her sister. Wafwist had cussed her to hell and back for even entertaining the notion. The family motto was not, 'Starve before working with frogs.' Vwilona was not starting to realize that maybe that wasn't a bad idea. If she got geeked here, she couldn't help her uncle pay his debts at all, and she had a kid to support!

As she thought her way through that, an explosion below their feet announced that they didn't _have_ three days. Things were kicking off right fucking now, and Vwilona was certain the Plumbers were involved. The frogs scrambled for their weapons and rushed to their stations. Knowing that the jig was up, Vwilona headed for the exit. If she could get there before the cops plowed these guys under, she had a chance of slipping away.

Nick Luchini was right behind the guy with the battering ram as the door to the old warehouse came down. No sooner was the door out of the way, than he was advancing into the warehouse with his heavy pistol at the ready. A second SWAT guy was behind him, toting a rifle in heavy .50 Beowulf, courtesy of the Chief, and behind him came Helen with her Proto-Tool. The cops advanced, shouting 'Police' and 'Search Warrant'.

They faced the most dead-end of dead-enders. These were the people who'd signed on willingly. They were the men who'd been happy to do dirt in Vanos's name. Now those men stepped out to throw down with the police on one last roll of the dice. This was it. Make or break. There were no second chances here. They were all looking at the death penalty–or worse.

Some of them had talked about it. They had been clsoe up with the frogs. They had figuratively crawled into bed with aliens. What if they couldn't be housed with normal people anymore? What if the feds decided to just do them? Or what if the alien cops–the Plumbers–took them away into space, never to return. All those thoughts and more went through the minds of those men as they went toe-to-toe with the SWAT team.

The first man Nick encountered leveled an AK-47 at him and let fly. Taking his time in a hurry, Nick raised the .50, drew a bead, and thumped him dead center. As the body slumped to the ground, Nick moved onward. "On your left, Nick," shouted Helen. Before he could even react, she'd dropped another thug–this one standing in a darkened doorway, holding a Benelli semi-auto. "Thanks, toots," said a grateful Nick.

More cops were pouring in behind them, and the two got separated as Mike began dispensing orders. "Watch yourself," shouted Helen, as she disappeared down a hallway. As she disappeared from sight, Nick found himself whispering, "you too..." Shaking his head he turned to his right and went back to work. Room by room they cleared the structure. The evening devolved into a series of short, sharp gunfights with men who had nothing to lose.

Two of the gangsters double-teamed an unlucky SWAT officer, stitching him across his right leg and dropping him in a doorway. Before they could polish him off, Nick stepped in and shot the guy on the left, buying the injured man time to shoot the man on the left. "Man down," shouted Nick. Two of the SWAT team grabbed their injured buddy and dragged him to safety, leaving Nick to move on alone.

The warehouse was a maze. Reese and Tom quickly got separated from the main body as the teams got divided and divided again to cover the endless array of corridors and passageways. "No way this is original," groused the young patrolman. "Drywall," rumbled Reese. "In the time when this place was built, it would have been horsehair plaster." "They did this on purpose, then," rumbled Tom. Reese nodded. He was learning. Covering each other, they made their way down a long, narrow hallway, senses alive for signs of ambush.

Sniffing something that frightened him, Tom grabbed Reese by the shoulder and stopped her. "What," she whispered? "Water," said he. He smelled water. Just as he uttered those words, the floor opened up beneath their feet. Letting go of his weapon, he jumped up, pressing his back into the wall behind him and his feet into the wall opposite. Catching Reese by the scruff, he hauled her back up into the hallway as two thugs came out of the room at the far end of the hallway, guns blazing. Reese raised the heavy .50 and put a round through first one and then the other.

Straining against the pull of gravity and the weight of his partner, Tom all but tossed Reese across the two feet to the nearest floor. Then he shuffled his way across to join her. "Not bad, kid," muttered Reese, as she walked down the hallway to the two amigos.

On the far side of the wall, Mike Stack found himself in a wide-open room facing a half-dozen thugs at once. They were young and fast, and only the fact that nobody had ever taught them to shoot kept him from checking out. It was another reminder that he needed to seriously rethink the way he approached his life. With Lucy hinting that she maybe had a way for them to have kids together, the old way of doing business wasn't going to cut it.

"Got any Plumber tricks for this situation," shouted Tim? Mike chuckled. Nope. That would have been a big no-no. They were going to have to get out of this using good old fashioned Earth technology. Fortunately, the kids couldn't shoot. Jumping up, Mike rushed out from cover, slicing the pie as the kids tried to get a bead on him. Zig-zagging across the big open room, he did a neat tuck-and-roll at the last minute, throwing himself behind a row of barrels. Coming back to his feet on the far side, he geeked two of the punks.

The sudden shocking attack put the gangsters on their heels, buying space for the SWAT team. With Tim in the lead, the other officers charged out and mowed down the remaining gangsters. One by one, the gangsters checked out, finally leaving the cops in possession of the chamber. "Start looking for a door," said Mike. "These guys were guarding something..." As soon as he uttered those words, the roof began to descend. "Well, okay," chuckled Tim. "Welcome to my world," muttered Mike. A glance at the door they'd come through revealed a heavy metal grate blocking the way back. Turning to the others, he said, "start stacking boxes and crates. We gotta' keep that thing from smashing us..." As the ceiling descended at an ever-increasing rate, the cops started putting up obstacles in the way.

The boxes, unfortunately, weren't really sturdy enough for that. As the cops watched in dismay, the heavy ceiling crushed the first few layers instantly. "These metal drums gotta' stop that thing," shouted one of the SWAT guys. Several unhappy faces glared at him. "What's your idea," retorted the frightened cop. "Sure you don't have any Plumber Tech," asked Tim? Mike cussed him.

"Alright, everybody," said Mike. "Get small. Gather around the drums. Let's stack the drums close together. If one won't do it, maybe a bunch will." Grunting and cursing, the cops started shoving the heavy oil-drums across the concrete floor, gathering them in the center of the room. When they had two rows of them, the eight cops sheltered between them. Mike found himself praying like never before. If this shit didn't give him PTSD, nothing would. Fortunately the gamble paid off. The ceiling stopped atop the steel drums.

As Tim turned to congratulate their leader, a hissing sound announced that they hadn't quite made it to safety. "Sonofabitch," growled one of the cops! "Why can't they just shoot?!" Mike shushed him. They had to get that door open. "Conserve your strength, guys," said he. "I'm gonna' try and get that door open!" Fortunately, just as he went crawling across the floor, the gas suddenly stopped, and a trap door opened. Reese stuck her head in and said, "you guys ok?"

In short order, all ten cops were out of that would-be grave and standing atop the structure above the heavy ceiling panel–staring up at the belly of the frogs' spaceship, no less. "I could kiss you," said Mike. Chuckling, Reese retorted, "we're both _married_!" "This was what they were guarding," murmured Tom. "But where're the Alphas," asked an uneasy SWAT officer? The Alphas were supposed to be taking down the frogs and their spaceship. They had assumed the ship was on the bottom floor of the warehouse, but now it appeared their guess was wrong.

Mike didn't like this one bit. They weren't equipped for this. He stood to lose a lot of men if th frogs came out to play. They couldn't go back the way they'd come. The door was locked, and they couldn't figure out how to get it open again. The only other way out involved a swim through the frigid waters of the East River. Mike was considering drawing straws when an explosion opened the bottom of the frogs' ship, sending shrapnel flying. "Take cover," shouted the BPD cop, as three frogs came flying out through the hole with two of Molly's Alphas in hot pursuit.

As Mike watched, the frog drew a bead on the lead Plumber and blasted him out of the sky. The alien plummeted like a stone, landing heavily on the ground. Mike feared he'd just watch one of Molly's crew die. The second Plumber nailed one of the frogs, sending him flying into the walls of the vertical shaft the spaceship sat in. The frog half-slid, half-tumbled down the wall, nearly landing on top of Tom. When the second Plumber went down–double-teamed by the two frogs, the city cops went into action, lighting up the room with rifle-fire.

Mike knew it was a losing proposition as soon as he saw the second Alpha go down. These guys were wearing combat-armor. It wasn't just their armored uniforms. This was the heavy-duty stuff they wore to war, and even the .50 failed to get through that. More to the point, with both remaining frogs flying around on jetpacks, they weren't going to be landing any head-shots tonight.

"Worthless savages," shouted Rillec, as he sprayed bolts of plasma at the cops. A bolt of blue-white energy clipped one of the SWAT guys, slicing his leg open and dropping him. As he screamed, the frogs continued to fire, and Tim threw himself on the guy, rolling them both out of the way. The cops continued to fire, which kept the frogs from getting clean shots too, but Mike knew this was a losing proposition. His head turned to the dead frog and the gun he'd had clipped to his assault-gear. The minute he went for that gun, he'd be painting a target on his back. _No choices, buddy,_ he thought. This was what they paid him the big bucks for. "Cover me," shouted Mike, as he sprinted for the plasma gun.

Rillec and his buddy swooped down, spraying bolts of plasma at Mike as he sprinted across the heavy iron deck, leaping over the structure that supported the lowering mechanism. At the last minute, he stopped short, causing the two frogs to overshoot. Diving for the plasma gun, he came up in a crouch, leveled the ugly metal tube at the handiest frog, and punched him through the neck. The creature went flailing through the air to slam into the giant steel post that supported the ceiling.

No good deed went unpunished, though. Rillec slammed into Mike, knocking the gun out of his hand. "You die, human," growled the frog, as he shot skyward again! He was headed straight for the underside of his spaceship. _Bug on a windshield,_ thought the cop, as the ugly black wall came up. That was when Molly and Shar intervened.

Having finally finished off the last of the frogs, the two came rushing through the hole in the hull of their ship, anxious to catch up to the three runners. Molly shot Rillec through the center of his back, causing him to drop her friend. Shar swooped down and caught Mike before he plummeted to his death. "Hooo, boy," whistled Mike! "Remind me to send your folks a thank-you card!" "You are welcome, Officer Stack," chuckled Shar.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21:

Lucy threw herself on her fiancé as soon as he was within arms-reach. As Tom and the other team-members looked on in bemusement, the sexy alien girl kissed her man thoroughly, leaving no doubt about how much she loved him. Tom felt a moment's jealousy towards the older man. Lucy was an angel, and she was his age too. But she was _devoted_ to Mike and everybody knew it. At the same time, the young officer knew he had made a friend. He'd never forget Lucy or the things she'd taught him. In the now, it was time to clean things up.

"I'll take charge of things here," announced the pretty blonde. She knew the Commissioner and Mayor were waiting on the news. "You sure, babe," asked Mike? Grinning, Lucy replied, "I got this, honey. Besides... The sooner you take care of business, the sooner we get to see each other at home." Wagging her eyebrows, Lucy added, "no bruises in the way now..." Mike blushed and grinned at the same time. "See you at home," agreed Mike. With a quick kiss, Lucy sent her man on his way. Then she turned to the task of cleanup.

The task went for more than an hour in the cold, with the Alphas hauling machines and equipment out of the warehouse while NYPD SWAT stood watch and kept the curious at bay. Six trucks hauled the thugs, young and old alike, out of there. Lucy and Molly were right there with scanners searching for their sludge-puppy mole. She hadn't been seen since Mike chased her out of the IA division offices. Still, as they got down to the bottom of the pile, it was becoming clear that she'd flown the coop. With the last of the gangsters loaded up and the frogs all accounted for, the job turned to recovering every scrap of information they could.

Nick and Helen were in the lead as the team policed-up evidence by the crate, separating it all into neat piles. As they worked, Lucy and Molly watched with bemused detachment as the two bantered like old friends. "Has he asked her out yet," asked Lucy? Molly chuckled. There was definitely chemistry there. With Helen finally moving on from Manny, it was a good time for another interested man to make a move. "Not yet," admitted Molly. "But I've seen her with her head bare more times the last few weeks than the last two years..." She'd even seen Helen wearing lipstick and eye-liner again and actually behaving like she gave a damn about her appearance!

As they watched, Helen's personal phone rang. Signaling Nick that she needed to take the call, Helen stepped away. "That's bad news," muttered Molly. Nearly everybody who would have _called_ Helen on her personal phone was already standing on that pier. Lucy's hackles went up as she realized who was calling her friend. Minutes flashed by as Helen chatted with the man who had dumped her. Then, while Molly and Lucy watched, Helen finished her conversation and came zipping up to them. "Manny wants to work it out," squealed the wired wonder-girl! "That's great," declared Lucy, but the only person who didn't notice her lack of enthusiasm was _Helen_. Helen went zipping back to Nick Luchini to share her news. She didn't even see the disappointment on his face. He bore it well, congratulating her before returning to work.

As the clock struck 1 AM, they had most everything wrapped up. As the last truckload of evidence rolled off the pier, Lucy checked in with the SWAT team lead. "It's secure, detective," the older man reported. "I've got men manning checkpoints at the end of the pier and a boat patrolling the river around it. Nobody's getting in or out until we're done." He'd even gotten them rifles in .308 caliber just in case they ran into killer frogs. "Thanks," said Lucy. "We'll be back in the morning for the rest." With that, she headed for Tom's shiny yellow Mustang.

Tom popped the lock, and Lucy climbed into the passenger seat. Lucy said, "I'm looking forward to getting a good night's sleep." Yawning, Tom replied, "you and me both." He put the Mustang in gear, and the hotrod rolled down the pier, taking a right as they reached the end. Tom couldn't help a glance over at the beautiful woman in the passenger seat. Just now she was looking at her phone, and he imagined she was checking for messages from Mike. The older man was a lucky bastard, no denying. "Well, your life'll get back to normal," announced the pretty blonde. Tom nodded absently as he took the next corner, headed for the exit.

The truck came out of nowhere, ramming Tom's car and sending the Mustang careening into the water. The sports car landed with a tremendous splash, and almost immediately began to sink. Surprised and panicked, the two occupants fought with the doors, finding that the water-pressure kept the doors shut as the car sank to the bottom of the East River.

Icy water flooded in from every gap, crack, and joint, filling the car up to the shoulders in just moments, and it looked to Lucy very much like she was about to go down with the ship. Her mind was on Mike and his family and the might-have-beens. This wasn't the way she'd always envisioned going out. She'd always just assumed it would be on an undercover mission gone bad with the bad-guys whacking her after her cover got blown. She never thought it would be a traffic accident.

Calmer, Tom carefully timed the moment where he opened his door to the moment when the car was nearly full. Taking a deep breath from the air-bubble near the roof, he opened the door and swam out. It was only a moment later that he realized Lucy wasn't behind him. Swimming around to the passenger side of the car, he opened the door only to find Lucy strapped tightly into the seat. Fighting panic and the need to fill his lungs with air, Tom fumbled out his tactical knife and sawed his way through the seatbelt, praying that he would be fast enough. Lucy's struggles were getting weaker, and, as he finally freed her from the restraints, they ceased altogether. Grabbing the alien woman by the scruff of the neck, Tom began to kick, swimming for his life.

Reaching the surface, he scanned the icy darkness for any sign of a boat or someone who could help them. Of the truck that had hit them there was no sign. Spotting a rickety ladder, the rookie cop swam hard as he could with limbs that were frozen, dragging his unconscious burden with him. It wasn't going to end like this! He'd promised to repay the debt he owed her, and he wasn't going to give up until he had.

Reaching the rickety ladder, Tom pulled Lucy's limp body onto his shoulder and began to climb. It took all his strength, and there were moments where he feared that wouldn't be enough. Reaching the top of the ladder, he heaved Lucy's body over the top and onto the pier. Climbing up after, he assessed her condition, finding that, just as he'd feared, she wasn't breathing. Leaning over her, he began chest-compressions and resuscitation, hoping that would work on her alien anatomy. He was rewarded with her coughing and thrashing, as her eyes popped open once again.

Coughing and wheezing, the alien cop sat bolt upright, spraying water from her nose and mouth. Tom held her down, making her get her breath before she tried anything else. Then he began assessing her. "What's your name," he asked? "Lucy Mann," wheezed the Plumber. "Where are you," asked Tom? "On the docks," gasped Lucy. "What the hell happened?" "Hit and run," replied Tom. "Someone knocked us off the pier." "Our rogue," coughed Lucy. With a frown, Tom asked, "how do you figure that?" "It's what I'd do in her shoes," said Lucy. "I'm the one person everyone _expects_ to be a Lenopan. If she murders me, that gets her an identity to use to get out of town." She was probably on her way to the Stack household as they spoke, which didn't leave them a lot of time. Mike would be on his way there, and their sludge-puppy spy might be waiting on him.

Mike was exhausted but elated as he walked into his mother's house after the crazy evening they'd just experienced. With experienced NYPD officers on guard through the night, they would have the scene preserved until he and his team could get back to it in the morning. After that, they could start to wrap things up here. He and Lucy could get home, and maybe, just maybe enjoy the vacation they'd missed. Val was up and sitting on the couch reading when Mike came through the door, which wasn't unusual but was a bit of a surprise. He'd been expecting his brother to be sitting there drunk out of his mind, staring at the TV. Instead he got Val.

The youngest Stack sibling gave her brother a smirk as he tottered through the door, looking like he'd run an all-day marathon. As Mike shut the door, she said, "I hope you didn't spend all that energy on the bad-guys, big brother..." Mike responded to that with a frown of puzzlement. Grinning, Val explained, "Lucy's taking a hot shower, and I think she's got something special planned for you." Mike's face went red hot. From a binge of getting sex whenever and wherever they felt like it, the two of them had dropped down to nothing the last week or so–really since Lucy's run in with the NYPD in the park. Mike had gotten the impression that his lady was just as frustrated as he was. Now it looked like they would get the release they both wanted. At the same time, he was a little embarrassed by the idea of having sex where his mother could hear them. Seeming to sense where his mind was going, Val remarked, "ma's out with her friends painting the town. She won't be back until morning."

Blushing, Mike headed for his old bedroom, wondering what he was going to find there. As embarrassed as he was about the idea, he was excited too, and he looked forward to intimate contact with his girlfriend. After a week of ups and downs and honestly not treating each other like they should, Mike wanted to reconnect with the woman he loved and to show her just how he felt about her. Dropping his badge, gun, and other gear in the bedroom, he slipped into his mother's bathroom to freshen up a little, splashing a little water on himself so he wasn't so sweaty and gamey. Then, slipping back into his own room, he headed over to the bed to get undressed.

On the way there, he found Lucy's suitcase, looking ransacked and kicked over–which wasn't like her at all. Lucy was organized to a fault. She had to be with the double-life she led. It looked a lot like somebody had torn through it, looking for something. Glancing over to the nightstand, he found Lucy's Passport sitting there. Frowning, Mike took a good look around the room, and he found a discarded dress there in the corner, laying across the back of the chair. He wondered then. He really wondered. Lucy had been wearing slacks and a pullover. They'd been on a case, and Lucy wore working attire when she was in the field, saving the sexy black dresses and the other stuff he liked for when they were out on the town. _Take it easy, Mike,_ thought the cop. He knew Lucy had packed a nice dress to go to Val's graduation. She hadn't been able to wear it because they'd gotten side-tracked with the investigation. She might well have thrown the dress on the back of the chair while she was rooting around in her suitcase.

The more he thought about it, the more he was worried. They hadn't found their shapechanger. She was still out there somewhere, and Mike knew it was easy for a female to impersonate another female. It was doing men that Lucy always found difficult. So what should he do? Did he dare scan her? It was a necessary evil in the work they did that they had had themselves implanted with identifying technology, but it would sure spoil the moment! At the same time, laying in bed with someone who meant him harm wasn't a very arousing prospect either._ Think, Mike,_ he thought. _You need a plan to stay alive, and you need a plan not to wreck the night with Lucy._

The beautiful alien girl came out of the bathroom humming a popular tune, which in itself was nothing new. What was odd was that it was one of the brash new-age pop songs that Lady Gaga put out. Lucy, being from a backwater town in Wyoming, preferred music from the eighties and nineties. Her taste in music was slowly growing, but she still hadn't _advanced_ to the current day. Though Mike often kept the radio in his car on popular stations, Lucy as often as not was focused on other things. Where would she have gotten to liking that song?

His eyes drifted from her beautiful face–and those heart-stopping eyes–to her bountiful, bulging boobies encased in a teddy in hot-pink silk. It was one of his favorite numbers, and she wore it whenever she really wanted to get him worked up. Underneath she was wearing a pair of nearly transparent panties held on by the tiniest of strings tied at her broad hips. Hips wiggle-waggling like a two-dollar whore, the lady came strolling across to him. "Hey, baby," she breathed. The voice sounded just right, and the note of sexual hunger in it had his gentleman standing proud, making a tent out of the bedsheets. Lucy licked her lips in hunger at the sight of that.

"What do you want tonight, handsome," cooed his girl? Mike frowned in puzzlement a moment. She'd had her hands behind her back, and now she brought out a magazine. Maxim. With one of the hottest new models on the cover in all her scantily clad glory. "I picked this up," said she. "I thought you might like it." Mike's mind went back to his conversation with Tim–and the many conversations he'd had with Lucy over the last year. That was what decided him. Slipping his hand under the pillow, he came up with a large-frame Glock that Ben had breathed on using one of his alien personas. The ammo didn't come cheap, so he'd never had much use for it in his regular police work, but when he'd gotten the call from the Old Man to take on this job as a favor, Mike had had Molly go collect the pistol from his digs in Bellwood. Now he leveled the pistol on the woman in front of him.

She didn't even try to pretend. Instead, she calmly asked, "what gave me away?" "There was a lot of small-stuff," Mike admitted. "Luce never throws her stuff around like that, and you left her passport out where I could see it. Biggest thing though was the magazine. I never ask Lucy to be anybody but Lucy." There was a moment where a strange emotion seemed to pass across his adversary's face. Softly, she said, "damn. She does have a nice life... You're the first guy I ever met who'd turn it down..." Mike shrugged, "I love her just like she is, whichever way she looks." There was real regret in her eyes as she realized just who's life she'd tried to steal. Everything the other woman had said was all true. She had a fantastic guy, and she was living the life. Mike slipped the handcuffs out and tossed them on the floor. "I'm not going," rumbled the alien girl. "I'm not fucking going to the null-void..." "You've only got a fifty-fifty shot at surviving this. I don't want to kill you," said Mike. The alien retorted, "but if I surrender, after committing murder, I'm going into the null-void forever." "You're in New York," replied Mike. "Technically, you're on NYPD territory. You could plea and get life in the New York state pen." "Just as bad, and I know that nasty old man won't go for it," growled the alien.

She was building herself up, and Mike knew it. They were at the crux. Just as he expected, the fake Lucy grew to tremendous size there in the room, and he knew she'd be compressing her organs and moving pieces around to make herself a harder kill. Her hand formed a sharpened spike of razor-sharp bone, meant to pierce his skull at the weakest point, so she could get his memories. After, she'd use his shape to slip away and disappear. Mike was calm in the face of that. Unlike nearly every human on the face of the Earth, he'd faced this down before. He'd faced it down a number of times, and he'd even been in the Plumbers' version of a shoot-house, testing himself against extra-terrestrial threats. Now, as that lance of bone neared his face, he took careful aim just below her head and let fly.

The report was thunderous in the confines of his old bedroom. Even with the borrowed tech implanted in his skull, his ears were still ringing. The alien stopped immediately, and those sinous limbs went completely lip. The mud-creature let forth a hideous wailing, as she collapsed to the floor. Mike slipped out of bed and moved to her side, standing over her with his pistol aimed at her head. She was dead already though. He'd severed her spine just below the neck. It was the revelation that Lucy gave him that was his clue. She did have ribs and bones under her very malleable skin. She could disjoint those limbs. She could displace the bones, using them as literal shields for her organs. She could double the size of her body. Still, somewhere in that gelatinous mass was a spine and a spinal-cord. He'd had a hunch that a Lenopan wouldn't think to move the spinal-cord around–that maybe they _couldn't_. Now his hunch was confirmed.

"You could have had a good life," sighed Mike, as he watched the light leave her eyes. Just then his brother, Bill Jr. burst in the door, looking like he'd just been scared sober by the sound of a gunshot in his home. He had his service-pistol in his hands and a look of shock and horror on his face. "Put the gun down," shouted Billy Stack! "Goddamit, put the gun down!" Mike knew what this looked like, and he knew he didn't have the time or space to argue right now. He put the Glock on the floor, and his brother kicked it away.

Billy backed him up against the wall. "Mikey," sobbed Billy. "What did you do? Why'd you do this? She was a sweet girl, Mikey... I know I was an asshole, but God, Mikey..." "Wasn't her," Mike tried to explain. "Mikey," sobbed Billy, "you killed that girl..." He was drunk and a little irrational. It was hard enough for a cop to manage being rational in the face of cold-blooded murder, but with Bill drunk and Mike standing over a dead body that had been wearing Lucy's face, he knew it was going to be a hard sell. All he could do was hang on and not double his tragedy. He wanted to go out and find Lucy. He was praying that she was alright. He feared this bitch had killed his girl, but he wouldn't get to go looking if he did something dumb and got shot by Billy.

Val appeared in the door, and Mike could see the horror on her face. Billy growled, "call 911, Val!" Val hesitated. "_Now_," shouted Billy! Val scooted out of there. The older man stepped back. Indicating the cuffs on the floor, he said, "put 'em on, Mikey." Mike edged forward and picked up the cuffs. Under his brother's watchful eye, Mike Stack put his own handcuffs on. Then the waiting began. Minutes stretched into eternity as they waited on patrol to arrive.

As he stood there crying, Billy began to curse himself. He was balling his eyes out and muttering curses, and the things he said left Mike speechless. "I was jealous," howled the older man! "You had it together! You had everything, Mikey! You had that nice girl! She was so into you, man! She didn't _care_ that you were a cop! I threw away my life drinkin', Mikey, and I was so jealous that you were happy! I wished you would end up just like me... a fucking burnout! I wanted her to dump you! I'm so sorry, Mikey..."

While Billy babbled, a pair of cruisers came roaring up to the house as Val stood watch in a state of shock. She'd come to love Lucy. She loved her sister-in-law, and she was disturbed and devastated to think her brother could do something like this. She didn't know what she was going to tell Ma. How could she explain this to Ma? Everything had been going so well. They were all talking about going out to Wyoming together–to go see Lucy's parents and spend some time together as a family. Now this.

As the devastated young woman stood there staring into the darkness, wearing her housecoat and shivering on the porch, an unlikely figure got out of one of the squad cars. It was Lucy, and she was wearing a blanket and looking like she'd just gone for a dip in the Hudson. Running up the stairs to the house, she said, "Val! Is everything alright?!" Val stared at her in shock. And then Val crumpled, passing out on the spot. Rolling her eyes, Lucy moved to step over her sister-in-law, but the cop who'd picked her and Tom up stopped her. "If you're right," said the cop, "your nasty friend's in there. We need to clear the house. Stay put..." "Here," said Lucy. "Take my badge. If my fiance's in there, it will glow when you're near him." "Thanks," said the cop. Then he and his partner grimly stepped into the house, announcing, "police! Come out with your hands up!" "Back here," shouted Billy! "We're back here! I've got him covered!"

As Lucy sat there on the porch, cradling her sister-in-law, she heard the commotion as the cops grabbed both men and hauled them out. They weren't sure just what was going on, but they had a corpse on the floor and two guys standing over it. Moments later, as the two brothers were brought into the living room–Billy repeating over and over again 'he shot her. He just shot her.' Lucy propped Val against the railing and entered the house, announcing, "Mike?! Mike, are you alright?!" Grimly, Mike replied, "I could ask you the same thing." Billy's eyes bugged out! He'd seen the corpse on the floor! Mildly, Mike explained, "wadn't her. Was the mole who'd infiltrated the department." To Lucy, he said, "I'm guessing she got your face from the interview."

The two beat-cops were confused as anything. Lucy made the explanations, "the body in the room is an alien shape-changer. Apparently she thought she'd drown me and come here and steal my life." Billy and the two beat-cops gawped at her. "I've got it from here," said Lucy. "Thanks guys. I really appreciate the help." The two cops were kind enough to bring Val inside and lay her on the couch. "Why are you soaking wet," asked Mike? "And how is it you're alive," asked Billy? "First thing's first," replied Lucy. Holding up her badge, she scanned it across her shoulder so Mike could indeed see that it really was her.

"Tom and I headed out after we got the scene cleaned up," explained Lucy. "Halfway down the pier, a garbage-truck came out of nowhere and slammed into the car. Knocked us into the East River. Tom's car sank like a stone, and I nearly drowned. Tom's quick thinking got us out of there..." Blushing, she admitted, "Tom gave me mouth-to-mouth. Hope you don't mind." Mildly Mike replied, "I'd like to bronze his lips." "I'm guessing," said Lucy, "she figured she'd kill me and take over my life." Then, after a puzzled frown, Lucy said, "judging by the fact that you're half-naked, I'm guessing she almost succeeded.

"Wasn't as close as you think," laughed Mike. "Val told me that you were waiting up on me and looking frisky. I wasn't sure it _wasn't_ you, and after weeks of nothing, I didn't want to spoil the mood." So he'd gone along with the plan for a while until he had proof that it wasn't Lucy. Frowning, his bride asked, "if you didn't scan her, what gave her away?" Mike shrugged, "she handed me a Maxim and asked me what I wanted..." Lucy blushed to her hair. She'd asked if he wanted that, and he'd flat told her that he would never ask her to do that. He looked at it as violating her, and she'd had to agree. They'd never talked about it again.

Lucy went to hug her lover, but Billy got there first. He grabbed the beautiful girl and hugged the stuffing out of her, even stroking her long blond hair for good measure. It was a surprising turn of events after one hell of a night. Just then, Val woke up. She almost fainted again at the sight of Bill Jr. hugging Lucy. "I-I...," stammered Val! "Mikey _shot_ you!" "Mike shot an impostor," grumped Lucy. "She tried to drown me in the East River and steal my life." Val grumbled, "that explains a lot..." At Lucy's puzzled frown, Val explained, "she said she lost her key, but we never gave you a key. She didn't even know where Mike's room was." She'd bluffed her way past Val. Stepping towards Val, Lucy hugged her sister-in-law and said, "I'm just glad that you didn't get hurt, sweetie. That's twice now you've been sucked into my world." She wasn't happy about that.

Blushing, Val admitted, "it was kind of exciting..." It still was. "Molly will be here soon to gather up the body," sighed Lucy. After that, I'm afraid this house may get invaded by CSI. You guys should gather up what you can for clothing. Mike and I may have to put you up in a hotel. At least until we can get the Commissioner to void the investigation." "Shit," groaned Bill Jr. If she was on the force, we'll be out of the house for _weeks_!" Grinning, Val announced, "we can go _shopping_!"


	22. Epilogue

Epilogue:

Commissioner Frank Williams was faced with a quandary. The frogs were gone. The gangs of New York were broken into a millions pieces, and the high-tech garbage was no longer killing men and women in his town. At the same time, it was clear that aliens–and the problems they brought–were here to stay. He couldn't pretend that they weren't. The city–and its leadership–could no longer afford to pretend that alien sightings were the result of a drug or alcohol-fueled stupor. Much like California Law Enforcement, New York's police were going to have to figure out what to do now.

Walking into the old station-house, he found the people most responsible for their success in the middle of a frantic effort to pack their belongings so they could get the hell out of here. That made him more than a little nervous. What if the frogs came back for another round? Components for thousands of weapons had left his town. He didn't want New York to be targeted as a source of supply in the Incursean Civil War. What if there was something even _nastier_ out there waiting for a chance to take over?

Walking into the former Captain's office, he stood there watching as Michael Stack emptied the desk. He'd learned that Officer Mike Stack had once been one of his. Frank had read his file from cover to cover. The man had an impressive record before and after his departure from the NYPD. Top marksman of his class. Member of a Special Response Team. Dozens of arrests to his credit. He was a helluva policeman. He had all the right credentials, and he'd shown his ability to manage this kind of problem. Mike Stack was the best man for the job.

Shutting the door behind him, Frank cleared his throat, attracting the younger man's attention. Straightening, Mike greeted the older man with, "afternoon, Commissioner. What can I do for you?" "I'd like you to consider staying on, Mr. Stack," announced the Commissioner. Mike's brow creased. Holding up his hands, Frank said, "we need you here, Stack. We've got nobody who's dealt with anything like this. You... You're the perfect man for the job." Mike flushed. Taking the opening, Frank Williams said, "I understand why you left, Mike. With the union and with the seniority system in place, it's hard for a young guy to get ahead. This... This is different. This is a whole new division. You'd have carte-blanche to set things up the way you want."

Mike replied, "I'm flattered, sir. I really am... but..." "You're getting married," sighed Frank. "I know. I can't ask a man to leave his fiancé behind. I'm prepared to offer Ms. Mann a position on the force too. I'm prepared to bridge both of you for years of service..." Mike thought about that for a long few minutes. It was a tempting offer, better even than what was waiting on him back home in Bellwood. He knew Lucy would have followed him wherever he wanted to go, even if it meant leaving everything she knew behind. At the same time, it didn't really feel right.

"Sir," said Mike. "Flattering as the offer is, you're making it to the wrong guy." Stepping around his desk, he took the senior man by the shoulder and opened the door. Steering the Commissioner out of the office, he pointed to the five very human faces sitting at one of the desks. "They stayed here and walked the beats for you," Mike reminded him. "They didn't run off to California." Smiling, he added, "and they're just as good as I ever was." Defeated, the Commissioner nodded. He'd have to figure out a plan going forward. Mike informed him, "Helen's volunteered to stay and help you get on your feet. She's one of the best there is. I'd be happy to offer whatever advice I can." "Thank-you, Mr. Stack," sighed the Commissioner.

The two men shook hands. Motioning for the Commissioner to go and meet his new team, Mike stepped aside. A glance at his fiancé found Lucy smiling at him in approval. He'd handled that very well. Smiling back, Mike headed back to his soon-to-be former office to finish cleaning up his stuff. When he was done, he came outside with a small box to find the Alphas had already finished cleaning up the Plumber equipment they'd brought. Lucy was waiting on him with their bags. The Commissioner was gone, but his friends remained.

Mike strolled over to them, announcing, "I want to thank all of you guys. I asked a lot of you, and you more than delivered. When Lucy and I got here, it was just us against an unknown number of extra-terrestrial killers. We never could have done what we did without all of you. More than that, you made my fiancé feel at home in spite of the things that were going on at the time. You're all class acts in my book, and I've already lobbied the Commissioner to promote you to enable you to continue the work we started here. New York City needs you. More than that, the people of New York State are going to be watching what goes on here for lessons to keep the rest of the state safe. I know you all can do this, and I look forward to seeing you all again some day soon."

He and Lucy went down the line, shaking hands with everybody there before heading for the stairs with their bags in tow. "Sorry it wasn't much of a vacation, honey," said Mike, as they climbed the stairs. "Baby, I wouldn't have missed this for the world," replied Lucy. She'd gotten to meet his family. She'd met all his old friends. They'd had a _crazy_ adventure in the streets of New York. She was more than content.

As the twosome came out on the roof of the old station-house, Mike let his girl come even with him. The sun was setting, casting shadows on them from the surrounding buildings, and the air was suffused with golden light. Lucy looked absolutely _lovely_ standing there. He was the happiest man in the world right now. "I love you, Lucille Mann," said he, as he gathered her into his arms. "I love you, Michael Stack," replied Lucy. Arm-in-arm, the two got onto Molly's proto-truk. Sealing the ramp behind them, Molly announced, "next stop, Bellwood, California."


End file.
